Dangerous Obsessions
by Cindy Lucy
Summary: DG. It started as an obsession. PreHBP. CHAP 24 POSTED!
1. Dangerous Obsession

Welcome to my FF. This is rated RPG-13, so you've been warned. The extent of the sexual situations in this fic is that it basically alludes to the fact that the characters had some. It's not meant to be gross, etc. If you're looking for full out smut, you've got the wrong ff. 

Like everyone else, I'm not making money out of this because I don't own any of these characters. I'm just a poor, starving college student! Reviews are appreciated with constructive criticism. I'll try and respond to all of your comments as well. Thanks and enjoy!

& Separating &

Chapter 1: Dangerous Obsessions

He stared at her across the sea of heads talking happily and filling themselves on the gourmet food before them, all of them unaware of the obsession consuming the pale boy playing unhappily with his string beans. It's strange he thought, everyone going on with their mundane lives while he suffered aching for what he could never had, what his father would not allow. That thought alone drove him mad. Never before had Draco been denied.

Perhaps that was what drove his obsession. The impossible. The excitement of the chase. But there was something else. Something that made his bad-boy genes erupt every time he thought about her. It was his desire to corrupt that which was pure and innocent. Certainly his father would understand that. For that was how he had captured the heart of his elegant mother.

All around him students celebrated the holiday, but he didn't hear or see them. No one was in his world except the youngest Weasley before him. He inhaled deeply, as if trying to drink her in. Her every facial expression, the way her nose scrunched up when her brother made her laugh. The way she tossed her hair playfully behind her shoulder when she looked at the boy next to her.

Potter. That imbecile! As hard as he tried, Draco and Ginny Weasley were not the only ones in his world. Potter kept showing up at the most inopportune times. Draco had had a glimmer of hope only once when it seemed the red- haired girl showed interest in others. But then Scarhead's godfather had been killed, and the girl had gone back to adoring him, whether or not of pity, he did not know. Draco had always hated the famous little orphan, but this only flared it. Potter had what Draco wanted one more time and he didn't even recognize it.

Draco would never allow the girl to go unnoticed if she suddenly turned her affections toward him. He would treat her like the angel she was and take her out of the clutches of her dirty family. Draco's almost translucent eyes continued to gaze at his diamond in the rough unblinking. He tried to force himself to look away, to turn away from her forever; life would be much easier that way. But he couldn't, his desire was too strong, he could barely stop himself from jumping across the tables, pulling her into his arms and kissing her with all of the pent up emotion he had carried for the last 4 years. Ginny Weasley would be his and this was the year everything was going to change.

He sifted through the untouched mashed potatoes piled up on his plate, bearing a striking resemblance of a dagger. His obsession had afforded him very little appetite these days but it didn't seem to have affected his appearance. Draco smiled smugly at the thought of his perfect body that screamed upper-class. Any girl would be lucky to have his masculine arms around them. In fact, it was a daily occurrence to have girls fighting to get to him. But they didn't matter. Those girls were there to fulfill his needs, but none of them could tame his heart.

Draco's eyes shot up as he heard Ginny laugh melodically and watched as she touched Harry's arm lightly. 'He made her laugh,' Draco snarled with contempt. Soon she would be looking at him that way.

These thoughts of the future consumed him and he fed off of them to survive day to day. Draco jumped to his feet suddenly as he saw the fair girl get up from the table. She was leaving the Great Hall alone. It was now or never, he would speak with her tonight or his emotions would drive him mad. Draco looked around making sure no one had noticed his sudden jump before walking quickly out of the Hall after her, his black robes billowing silently behind him.


	2. Being a Malfoy

Chapter 2: Being a Malfoy

Persistance-- an admirable quality the wealthy encouraged. It was an attribute so honored in fact, that it was bred for. Those with persistance got what they wanted, riches were insured that way. Push something until it broke, that is how it worked. Persistance coursed through Draco Malfoy's veins. Most of his unfortunate toys as a child had taken the brunt of his persistance and were destroyed beyond recognition because of his ever-present desire to get more from the plaything. For that's all it was. Something to use and then disgard.

He followed her silently like a shadow up the stone steps, climbing upwards but never taking his eyes off of the girl's swaying form. Draco's stomach lurched, egging him on to reach out and grab her, for he was only a few paces behind. But he told himself to wait. Everything is better after a little anticipation afterall. That was the appeal. 

Ginny halted in her travel slightly as the corner of her robe had been caught by the jagged edge of an ancient stone corner. Draco's eyebrows raised as the opportune moment seemed to have come.

"Leaving the party so soon?" he said in his naturally cold tone, his voice couldn't seem to come out any other way, stepping out from behind the shadows. He smirked in wicked pleasure as Ginny turned with a start from the task of releasing her robes. 

"M-Malfoy?" She said, allowing a surprised gasp to escape her cherry lips. "What are you doing up here?" She added, furrowing her brow and turning back to unsnag her robes. 

"What's it to you?" He asked curiously, crossing his arms over his chest and stepping forward, piercing her with his crystalline eyes.

"Absolutely nothing," she said flatly, obviously having recovered from being startled and beginning to walk away again, her soft tendrils bouncing with every step. His chance was slipping through his fingertips. 

"Why did you leave without your friends?" He called after the red-haired girl, making her stop again and turn slowly towards him. She looked at him as if silently questioning why he cared. He stepped forward again smirking as Ginny squirmed uncomfortably in front of him, obviously contemplating her answer. 

"I-I wanted to be alone for a while," she replied, wringing her hands as Draco took yet another slow step towards her. Her eyes darted around quickly, looking at everything except for Draco's pale, delighted face. His constant stare was bothering her, he knew it, but he wouldn't stop it for anything. 

The sassy, independent role Ginny tried to play was only an act she used when around Potter. Underneath she was as vulnerable and pure as the day Lord Voldemort had controled her, Draco could see it in her eyes, as if they were an opened book dying to be read. That was why it had been so easy for the Dark Lord. They locked eachother's gaze and everything around them seemed to disappear. He could see it all, like her soul had been suddenly exposed and all lay bare. 

Ginny's mouth opened to say something, perhaps to protest Draco coming any closer, but no audible sound came out. Now only a foot a part, Draco could see just how much of a that little girl Ginny Weasley pressence had in her. Her scared face looked up at him, lips trembling, softly pleading for him to take away the bizarre, hypnotic hold Draco seemed to have on her; to have mercy on her troubled spirit. 

He could take her now, he knew it. She would have done whatever he wanted to escape their bind. But it would not be right to seize it all so quickly. Even now as she stood before him completely at his mercy, almost begging to be held, he could not do it. Propriety demanded he wait. 

Draco tore his eyes away from her fair face, breaking the bond. "I'll leave you alone then," he sneered, tension thick in his voice after denying himself what he could have had. With that, he turned on his heal and disappeared into the shadows once again, leaving a pale and weak Ginny shaking behind him. 

For now his obsession had been satisfied. He smirked to himself, thinking of the events that had transpired as he stalked past the Great Hall still booming in celebration and headed directly towards the dungeons. It had been perfect, and he mentally applauded himself for once again not missing an opportunity such as this. He knew when to act. For this was what made him a Malfoy.

Over the next few weeks, Draco couldn't help but notice the sudden change in Ginny Weasley. No longer did she laugh merrily with her friends (Harry and Ron took turns elbowing her during meal times to see if she was even aware of her environment) and her appetite had all but vanished, though she tried to disguise it. This, Draco grinned, was because of that night in the dark corridor. 

It had more of an effect on her then he ever imagined, Draco surveyed, eying her alarmingly pale face and swollen eyes one day. If this untidy appearance of hers was the result of all of their meetings, perhaps he had better take a different approach. Since that night, Draco had left her alone. Part of his masterful plan. As he had hoped, Ginny would jump whenever she saw him coming, leave the Great Hall glancing behind her sholdour in nervousness, and tremble if Draco's gleaming eyes moved her way. She was certain he was after her, and acted as if at any moment he might fly into the room and steal her away forever. 

He knew his next move would have to be made soon, possibly even that night. With that thought in mind, Draco got up from lying on his green satin sheeted bed, glanced in his full-length mirror to make sure his hair was perfectly coiffed, and headed out of the Slytherin dormitories to the Great Hall. His fists hung stiffly at his sides as he entered in a determined manner, his eyes scanning the crowded hall. 

Draco glanced at the Gryffindor table where the red-headed beauty sat picking at her food and trying to smile as her brother recounted yet another story about the Gryffindor quidditch practice. With a rigid frame and ignoring the incessant calling from the Slytherin girls, Draco headed towards the Gryffindors. 

Any color left in Ginny Weasley's face disappeared as she watched Draco get closer to the group, looking as mischevious as ever. Her fork made a clatter as it toppled to the floor having slipped from her twitching hand, and she bent down nervously to pick it up. Ron had barely enough time to glance at what startled Ginny before Draco's elbow collided with his body, making him fall backward off the bench. The Slytherins howled with laughter from across the Great Hall, most of them not even having noticed Draco had entered at all until his deliberate disturbance.

"What the heck are you doing Malfoy?" Ron roared, accepting Hermione's hand to pull him up off the stoney floor and rubbing his hand across the back of his head that seemed to have taken the brunt of the fall. 

"I'm terribly sorry Weasley… I wasn't looking where I was going," Draco grinned maliciously as Ron's face became redder and Harry got to his feet, still clutching a chicken leg in his hand. 

"Weasley, Malfoy, Potter, what is going on here?" Professor McGonagall's voice called tursely from her seat at the teacher's table above them.

"Nothing Professor, nothing at all," Malfoy answered immediately before anyone else could speal, and hitching his fallen robes back onto his shoulders. With a quick but piercing glance at a speechless Ginny, he wheeled around and exited the Great Hall, slowing down slighty as he reached the doors, knowing he would be followed. 


	3. The Hold

Hi guys, I'm Cindy. I really want to thank you for reviewing my ff. I'm glad all of the comments have been really positive so far. I can take criticism as nobody's writing is perfect for everyone. I try and stay close to Draco's character in the real HP books, but JK doesn't really give me much to work with aside from his hate for Harry and his snootiness… it has required a lot of imagination. I also try to write on this fic when I am in a bad, pissy mood so I can get his attitude down. That's why I love Draco so much, we're a lot alike in a lot of ways. I encourage you all to tell more people about this ff, reviews really do help me write more and write better. Thanks!

Louise Luvgood – I'm so honored you took two days out of your life to read my fic! I'm really flattered, furthermore that my Draco is your favorite!

greenlinnet- Oh Lin dear, you flatter me so! ***Blush***

RheaLee- Rhea, thanks for helping me with the unsigned thingy. I'm new to all of this! Thanks for coming ova' here. ;)

cybErdrAgOn- Thanks for the suggestion about breaking it up… This is my first time using ff.net, so I didn't know how to work any of this. Lol I'm not really good at coming up with chapter titles, so I usually stay away from it, but I'm working on it! Glad you enjoy my fic! By the way, how do you think Draco and Dumbledore were OOC? I'm just curious so I might be able to fix it. 

mailbox- Good to know I keep you droolin' Mel!  
  
killer-the-cat- I like any Draco ff really! Lol Sorry for the shortness of the chapter, I didn't have an opportunity to write much.

Stained Slighty Silver- Paige! Thanks for coming on and being the first to sign! Thanks for the typo fix. Unfortunately I don't have spell check on my Microsoft Word program. Don't ask, long story, and it involves my very annoying computer that ate some files… grrr…

Chapter 3: The Hold

"Malfoy!" a shakey voice called, just as Draco was beginning his descent down a flight of stairs. He grinned to himself before turning around to see Ginny hurrying after him. 

"Why are you doing this?" She asked weakly, stopping at the top of the stairs and holding onto the bannister as if it was the only means keeping her from toppling over then and there. 

"I don't know what you mean," he said calmly, smirking to himself at the site of her watery eyes. 

"Yes you do!" she screeched, the blue veins in her hand standing out brightly against her blanched skin as she flexed. "Why are you tormenting me?!?" She sobbed, lowering herself to the floor slowly as her knees gave way as if her spirit had just been ripped out of her body along with her strength. 

"Am I tormenting you more then usual? I hadn't noticed," he shrugged, a sadistic smile spreading across his pale lips at the site of emotional wreckage rocking back and forth at his feet. She was nearly where he wanted her. Draco could sense her willpower was almost drained and soon there would be no resistance left in her. She would give up fighting and no longer would his obsession control him. He would be able to think freely without Ginny Weasley monopolizing his thoughts every hour of every day. Draco laughed quietly, though loud enough for her to hear him, and turned to go.

"Please…" he heard her plead softly after him, "leave me alone…please…"

Draco returned to his empty common room and sprawled on one of the plush velvet couches conemplating his final move. It had been far easier then he had anticipated. Once he had Ginny Weasley, he could throw her back as he did with all of his other used toys and his obsession would be done. Then he'd be free to return to his meaningless physical relationships that he had been boycotting for the last few months because his desire for the redhead was too overwhelming. His previous relationships no longer interested him, but soon he would feel satisfied again, he mused, putting his hands behind his head and staring up at the ceiling.

"I can't believe how she cowerd at my feet," he said out loud in the empty common room, laughing manically as his eyes drifted to the red and yellow flames eating at the logs in the hearth. He found himself silently mocking the dried wood that seemed to be struggling against the overpowering fire. 'It's no use trying to stop it,' Draco thought, 'we all have to know when we're beat.' 

Just like the logs in the fireplace, there were certain things in Draco Malfoy's life that he could never control. He had been taught to dominate, to use, to force and manipulate in every way. It was only until later that he realized it was he that was being dominated and forced. His future was already planned, his freedom had been taken away even before he was born. He hated it and he despized the one that did it to him. His father. Luckily he had one thing he **could** control; other people. They bent at his will, followed him whither he went, and acted when he commanded it. 

Draco didn't know how long he layed there, warming himself by the fire and thinking about corrupting the already tormented girl to end his madness. But soon the Slytherins were returning from dinner and Draco drifted up to his dorm room, not wanting to answer anyone's questions about his sudden absence at their table. No one knew about his fixation with Ginny Weasley, for it was merely that. And the sooner he had crushed the girl that taunted him in his dreams, the sooner it would all be over. 

No sooner had Draco settled himself comfortably on his silky sheets with his Potion's book, then there was a knock on his door. 


	4. The Bed

Chapter 4: The Bed

"Drakey," a flirtatious feminine voice called between knocks. "Are you in there?"

Draco sighed. He was foolish to think he could escape the world by merely hiding out in his dormitory, especially after the stunt he had pulled earlier in the Great Hall. No doubt one of the many Slytherin beauties had come to "congratulate" him on such a daring act, in front of all the teachers and the headmaster no less. 'They just can't get enough of me,' he thought to himself smirking as he slid off his four-poster bed and made for the door. 

He ran a quick hand through his platnum blonde hair before reaching for the silver snake-encrusted doorknob and pulling the door open with a creak. Before him stood one of the most sultry and prominent Slytherin 6th years, Victoria Shumway, eying him like he was the last lollypop in the entire candy store and she was a child having been deprived of such luxeries for too long. 

Her bright green eyes surveyed him unabashedly and she tossed her long raven black hair before prancing past him to enter his room as if Draco had already given her permission. Draco shook is head, smiling at her forwardness and closed the door behind her. Victoria had already perched herself on the corner of his bed and was stroking the emerald sheets with her fingertips before Draco even turned around.

"You haven't come to see me in a long time Drakey, I've missed you," she cooed, tilting her head to the side and pouting her bottom lip as if she was going to tear up at any minute, though Draco doubted she had that kind of emotion within her. That would be unbecoming of a daughter of such a wealthy family and a Slytherin for that matter.

"My time has been engaged elsewhere," Draco answered cooly, taking a few slow steps forward. Victoria was trying to tease him, that was obvious, but Draco rarely took the bait. In fact, it had been several months since their last "meeting," as Draco's mind had been too consumed with thoughts for a certain red-head. Though it hadn't stopped Victoria from trying.

"Elsewhere? Or with someone else?" She asked raising an eyebrow, her tone not in the least bit angry, for it was common knowledge Draco Malfoy had a large female following, even from the other houses. Even with such a reputation, he was still sought after and Draco accredited it towards his belief that every woman had desire to walk on the wild side at one point or another. He just happened to show up whenever they felt that sudden surge to rebel. Being at the right place at the right time, a Malfoy's duty. 

"You know along with everyone else in this castle, I have never been a one woman man," Draco replied simply. "No girl is worth that kind of sacrifice." For a second his mind drifted towards Ginny Weasley, the sweet, innocent, easily provoked, foolish girl. His jaw became stiff and his fists clenched as anticipation swelled within him at the thought of making her his, of ripping her out of the clutches of Potter and laughing smuggly in his disgusting face. 

He shook his head to escape the trance Ginny had seemed to put over him once again, and realized Victoria was looking at him curiously. 

"No girl? Is that so?" She flirted, taunting him by leaning back dangerously on his massive bed, her black locks falling gracefully onto the bedspread. 

Draco gazed at the elegant bed draped with silver curtains and covered in Slytherin green silk sheets. It had been one of his birthday presents from his father when he turned 15 years old-- a coming of age present as his father told him. Lucius Malfoy was so certain he knew his son, that he could anticipate his feelings, that he was just a younger version of himself. Hence, the present. Any other normal teenage wizard might have been confused when Lucius said, "We Malfoy men need our room to maneuver." But Draco understood. He had lost his innocense long ago. Sometimes he questioned whether or not he ever had it for that matter. He blamed his parents. 

However, Draco couldn't deny that this sturdy cherry-framed bed had been useful. In fact, it had been the place where much time was enjoyed since his 15th birthday. This, however, only added fuel to the fire, for his Father had been right. Draco hated being indebted to him, or to even acknowledge something he had done had turned out useful to his son. 

But his father was right. Slowly but surely, Lucius Malfoy had turned his son into something Draco had despised all his life; his father. Draco recognized who he had become at such a young age. The world knew. The students at Hogwarts knew. There was no escaping the destiny laid out before him. Draco sighed inwardly, gazing at the exotic girl lying invitingly on his bed. The Malfoy-men token.

"Like Father, like son," he muttered to himself before walking forward, giving into his fate once again. 


	5. Burning It Out

Chapter 5: Burning it Out Draco cursed under his breath at the winter sunlight that had suddenly poured into his bedroom in giant golden reys. After the strenuous adventures of the previous night, Draco didn't have the physical motivation to pull his curtains around his bed. As he drifted off to sleep with Victoria in his arms he had thought perhaps if he willed it enough, the sun would hide itself in the morning until Draco was ready to be awake. But it wasn't so.  
  
He looked over at the beds of his roommates and was glad to see they were empty and hadn't been slept in. Crabbe and Goyle were not intelligent by any stretch of the imagination, but at least they had enough sense to stay out of Draco's way.  
  
His eyes wandered around the room until they came to rest on the soft lump sleeping peacefully with her back turned to him, apparently unmoved by the invasion of the light. Draco pulled himself to a sitting position slowly allowing the sheets to fall around his waist, not wanting to wake Victoria quite yet as he was for the moment suprisingly contented with merely looking at her. Silk sheets were a good choice, he smirked to himself as he noticed how the material conformed to the girls' every curve. Yet another thing his father was right about.  
  
His eyes traveled to her long black hair cascading over the pillow her arms were losely wrapped around. Black had always been his favorite hair color, for it made the girls far more tantalizing in Draco's opinion. Why was it then that Ginny Weasley's red hair always played in his mind? Another curse escaped Draco's pale lips, more loudly then the first, as his thoughts moved once again to his obsession and her long fiery tresses. A vixen that consistently offered herself to him was lying exposed at his side, but Ginny Weasley was calling to him from a distance.  
  
Draco pulled the bed covers off of him, slid out of his bed and donned a pair of pants quickly, wanting to escape the suddenly confined room and his thoughts. Victoria stirred awake and rolled to her back grinning at him sleepily as Draco reached for a shirt hurriedly from his armoire.  
  
"Where are you going?" She asked, rubbing her eyes and sinking lower into the down-feather comforter. "It's Saturday, come back to bed."  
  
"I need to take a shower," Draco grunted, pulling the shirt over his head without looking at his lover from the previous night.  
  
"But you have all day to do that," the girl pouted, getting up from the cozy nest she had made in the bed and dragging a sheet around herself as she sideled up to Draco. "Can't we just go back to bed.? For a little while?"  
  
It was absurd to Draco that standing there now with Victoria offering herself yet again and all he wanted to do was exit the room where Ginny's memory had been taunting him seconds earlier. Draco reached a hand up and stroked Victoria's face, making her shiver from its intense coldness. He knew she would be furious and possibly not ever come back to him if he did not please her just right. Draco knew what to do, he had seen his father do it a thousand times with his mother after coming home late for two weeks in a row each month from "work." His mother believed it, but Draco could not be so easily fooled.  
  
Every woman likes to feel special, like they're a princess. Even if they know you are off to see another woman a minute later, they will fool themselves into thinking they're the ones you really care for. They lie to themselves even when the truth is staring them in the face, Draco thought, his lips twitching ever so slightly. Women; so easily misguided.  
  
"My dear, I have much to do today," he said, taking on the suave and hypnotic voice of his casanova father. "I cannot stay with you, though it pains me to leave your side. And I assure you, it will be hard for me to contain myself until the next time we can be together," he finished, slipping his hand around the small of her back and kissing her softly on her waiting lips. Seconds later, he pulled away and exited his dormitory, hurrying down the stairs to wash himself clean of any thoughts of the youngest Weasley.  
  
Draco emitted a sigh of relief as he found the boy's washroom empty. Now was not a time when he felt like being surrounded by his flock of admirers. Solitude was not something he frequently sought after, but it was becoming his only wish these days.  
  
The steaming water poured over his face, soothing his abnormally icy skin and giving him the warmth he had been craving. He turned the silver knob, making the water almost scalding to the touch. He wanted to wash or even burn out all thoughts of Ginny. Either way, it didn't matter. Draco just prayed for a few minutes peace inside his ever-spinning head.  
  
But he didn't believe in God. In fact, the topic was not even allowed in the Malfoy manner. Lucius' only remark on the subject was simple, "God is something weak people believe in to disillusion themselves because they're not capable of facing reality." And that was the end of the discussion as "such notions were a complete waste of time," or so his father said. Though, Draco mused the family 'God-ban' was because Lucius did not like entertaining any ideas depicting someone or something more powerful then the Dark Lord. Hence, any mention of Albus Dumbledore was also stricken. But it hadn't stopped Draco from thinking further about the possibility of such an omnipresent being.  
  
If there actually was a God sitting upon his celestial thrown, encircled by heavenly hosts, and leering down at the mortals he had placed below, Draco wished he would take this opportunity to intervene. To grant his fervent request and calm his head. Draco squinted his eyes shut as the clear liquid gushed over his silvery hair and onto his flushing cheeks. There wasn't a God, his mind was made up. If there was, people like his father would not exist in the magical or muggle world.  
  
With an added shot of bitterness for the non-existent diety, Draco switched the water off and began to get ready for the day, determined not to be held back by any more thoughts of Ginny Weasley. for a few hours at least.  
  
Draco managed to spend the entire day shut up in the library, knowing none of his friends would dream of looking for him there. He thought it odd that he had preferred homework to being social. After reading the first paragraph of the chapter on Twitching Charms for the tenth time, Draco slammed the book shut in agitation. For the first time in several days he hadn't been thinking of the red-headed girl constantly, and now he still could not get his work done. His stomach made an odd sort of grumble and Draco realized that in his haste in avoiding his friends, he had managed to skip both breakfast and lunch.  
  
He gathered up his belongings and headed down to the Slytherin common room to drop them off before going up to the Great Hall for some sustanance. As much as he hated the thought of being surrounded by hundreds of carefree school kids, it wasn't worth starving himself over. Whatsmore, he couldn't deny his curiousity in seeing how his latest move had affected Ginny Weasley. 


	6. Excuses and Notes

Chapter 6: Excuses and Notes

Draco grimaced as he entered the Great Hall buzzing as it did every day with chattering children and wornout teachers. He scanned the tables quickly, making a mental note of all those present—something that he had made a daily ritual. Such information made it easier to pull pranks, plan insults, and get others in trouble. Being prepared—another Malfoy trait. A particularly useful one in matters of creating mayhem. Draco noticed several female students blushing at him and whispering to their neighbors after he had entered. But this was a usual occurrence. His gaze then fell on the Gryffindor table, expecting to see Ginny in her recent pathetic looking state. But her place was empty. It was better then Draco had thought and he couldn't stop himself from grinning slightly at the thought of causing her emotional pain. Maybe then she would understand what it was he, Draco, had been going through all the time.

"Draco, sit over here," he heard Victoria call, oozing with sweetness. With an added spring in his step, Draco headed towards his house table and seated himself next to the waiting girl. 

He hadn't felt this content in a long time. Ginny wasn't there to taunt him with what he didn't have, and the thought of her pain made his lips quiver sadisticly. She was so upset she couldn't drag herself to dinner, he mused, picturing Ginny curled up in her bed sobbing herself hoarse. 

"Where have you been all day Draco," a gruff and clumsy voice asked from across the table after having been elbowed in the side by Crabbe. 

"I had things to do, Goyle," Draco replied flatly, not willing to offer any further information. An uncomfortable silence filled the Slytherin table, but no one dared to press anymore. 

Yes, Draco called the two guerillas seated in front of him his friends, but it was only a term. It meant nothing. The true meaning of the word "friend" implied the ability to trust that individual, and Draco trusted no one. How could he? Everyone around him was self-indulging and tratorous, including himself. If people were smart they'd become callous like he had become throughout the years. Don't expect anything from people. That way you don't get let down or surprised. It was functional, being the way Draco was; hard-hearted and distant to all he met. 

That was another thing. Getting attached to people made you weak. The moment you make yourself vulnerable they leave you. Why go through it all? That is why Draco never allowed anyone to purge his exterior, not even his mother who at times attempted to show some type of emotion. But Draco rejected it, knowing it wouldn't last, she would get a call from one of the society matrons or an invitation to a ball and would leave without giving Draco another thought. And that's the way it always was.

Birthdays, now that was a different matter completely. This one day each year the Malfoys would indulge themselves in celebration. Well, at least his parents did. To Draco it just meant he was one year closer to sealing his destiny. Lucius and Narcissa supplied Draco with the most lavish parties and expensive presents, as if bribing him to grow older, to keep going. He only had to make it to his 18th birthday, a few more months, and then he would join his father as a Death Eater and continue in the older Malfoy's footsteps. This year's presents would be the most elaborate. 

Goyle grunted and went back to ravenously eating his porc chop, slopping his goblet of pumpkin juice slightly as he shoveled his food in faster. Draco groaned inside looking at the pitiful excuses in front of him. Yes, their massive wall-like bodies were useful when confronting their enemies, but certainly he could do better then those two. Shaking his head, Draco made a mental note to scour the school for two less repulsive groupies. 

Just then, a loud flapping noise with mingled screeches filled the Great Hall. Owls swooped and soared above, dropping pieces of mail into the students waiting hands. Draco continued to eat his food, not expecting anything as usual. His family rarely wrote, and he frankly didn't want them to. A large school barn owl suddenly landed infront of him knocking over a bowl of boiled carrots and stuck its leg out for the blond-haired boy. Draco raised an eyebrow and took it hesitantly. The owl flapped its wings and was off again leaving Draco with a skinny piece of parchment. He unrolled it and read:

__

Draco,

Meet me at 11:00 pm, tonight in the History of Magic classroom.

Draco's head shot up and he immediately began visually scouring the Great Hall for the author of the letter, thinking perhaps they would be glancing over to see if he had received it. It wasn't an oddity to be sent such a request, in fact, it was a rather mundane event. Countless girls had tried the same approach, thinking an added bit of mystery would perhaps give them a better chance with the young Malfoy. But it had happened so many times now that Draco docked the girls off for lack of originality. 

Just then Draco caught two brown eyes staring at him from behind a pair of very thick pink-rimmed spectacles. Draco's face screwed up in disgust. It was Mildred Mortensen, a very heavy-set, pimple faced Hufflepuff 5th year that was several inches taller and wider then Draco. If it was possible, she was even more heinous to the eye with her troll like build than Pansy Parkinson with her pug nose. 

Mildred's newest hobby was following a few paces behind Draco between classes and staring at him from across the hall. He thought he had been rather successful up until now at keeping her away, giving her particularly cutting remarks, but now he was not so sure it had worked. He glanced at the piece of parchment in his hands again. What if that hag had sent the note to him? There was no way he wanted to be shut up in an empty room with her, afterall, she was quite a bit bigger then he and she had a manly sort of physique. Whatsmore, if anyone saw him leaving the classroom with her following after him… Draco shuddered at the idea. It was gossip the girls of Hogwarts would pay to obtain. He couldn't tarnish the Malfoy name with the likes of her.

Draco reached for his goblet and took a long draught of the sweet pumpkin juice, wanting to get the sour taste the thoughts of Mildred Mortensen had left in his mouth. He looked at her again. She ressembled a very ugly looking doll who had tried to gussy herself up by placing a number of large pink bows and barrettes all over her head making her frizzy hair stick up like she'd been hit with lightening. 'She'd make an excellent girlfriend for Potter, he likes being around trash,' he smirked to himself, looking at the wretched girl. Mildred suddenly realized Draco was returning her stares and her eyelashes began fluttering rapidly.

"What is the matter with that ridiculous Hufflepuff?" Victoria snorted loudly, having traced Draco's stare to Mildred. "Is she having a seizure? Wait, I think she's got something in her eyes!" By now most of the Slytherins had turned around and were pointing and laughing at the large girl, who didn't seem to notice as she continued batting her eyeslashes. 

Draco's mouth hung open, what exactly was she doing? It looked as though someone had put the Imperius Curse on Mildred, forcing her into this blinking frenzy to humiliate her. For a second, she stopped and looked expectantly at Draco, but he continued to gape. The ugly troll then began batting her eyelashes again, this time more quickly and forcefully. Her entire face scrunched up as if she was concentrating, and her body was twitching rhythmically. She was trying to impress him, Draco finally realized. 

Victoria seemed to be thinking along the same lines and said between fits of giggles, "Drakey, I think I have some competition." Draco's eyebrows furrowed at Mildred who hadn't relented the slightest. Suddenly she toppled over backwords and landed with a dull thud on the stone floor. The Slytherin table erupted with laugher, and even students from other tables had a hard time hiding their snickers as Mildred resurfaced once again, blushing as she pushed her glasses back on her nose. 

"Honestly, they shouldn't let people like that into this school, but then again, they let the Mudbloods in, so it's not a surprise," Draco muttered, turning back to his food and crumpling the piece of parchment in his hand and stuffing it into his pocket. 

"I don't know why she thinks she has a chance with you!" Victoria said later that night as she and Draco entered the Slytherin common room with the usual group following behind."She's got to be the ugliest thing I've ever seen… don't you agree Drakey?" 

Draco picked up his Potion's book he had left there earlier and fell back onto one of the green velvet couches, resuming his place without another glance at his entourage. Victoria had been poking fun at Mildred Mortensen ever since they left the Great Hall and Draco was beginning to tire of her voice. It wasn't that he disagreed with Victoria, Mildred truly was horrid, but he didn't particularly feel like company at the moment. 

He knew why he felt this way. For one stunning instant, Draco thought Ginny Weasley wrote the note. Why he thought that, he had no idea. She was not the sort of girl to proposition him or any male for that matter; that required a certain amount of wickedness and Ginny was completely pure. Spotless as a matter of fact. Besides, she seemed to be perfectly contented yet again being strung along by Potter and his invisible dog leash. 

Why did he wish for something that he knew he was not supposed to have? The thought was eating him up inside. Never before had he defied his father in this magnitude or brought shame to his family name that any relations with such a low-class witch would inevitably bring. In fact, he had conformed in every way, becoming the perfect little Malfoy he had been trained to be. Then why did he crave the redheaded girl so much, she was nothing extraordinary. There were a hundred more suitable girls that were more then willing to satisfy him. 

And then there was the one thing he feared in the entire world: the wrath of his father. He had only had a small taste of what Lucius was capable of, and that was reason enough to obey his every command. Draco managed to contain the shudder the memories of the horrible punishing curse gave him, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his head. 

"What'cha doin' Draco?" Victoria asked in her usual feigned sweetness, cozying up beside him and leaning over his shouldor curiously so that her black locks tumbled onto the pages of Draco's book. She was trying to make conversation and Draco hated it. What was so horribly wrong with silence once and a while? Why did she feel it necessary to keep her surroundings always buzzing with noise? 

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He snapped back, gesturing emphatically to the book in his hands before flipping to the next page and shrugging her head off his shoulder. 

He surveyed the retreating girl out of the corner of his eye. Her mouth was still moving up and down despite Draco's obvious annoyance. Victoria acted very much like Draco's mother, but that was understandable, she was after all first-class. She had been bread for superiority just as Draco had. But there was something else; neither of them could stand the silence. Whenever things got too calm in the Malfoy manner, Narcissa planned another party or a vacation to some foreign land as if keeping busy would cover the silence. Victoria likewise would talk incessantly and was always surrounded by a herd of girls. But why? What was hidden within the silence that frightened them so?

"I just remembered, I left a book in the Great Hall. I'll be right back," Draco interrupted, getting to his feet and hurrying out of the common room before Victoria had time to invite herself along. 

He stopped once outside and leant against the cold wall, taking gulps of air greedily and tugging at his collar as if someone had been slowly strangling him all night long. Confused, Draco slid down to the floor and closed his eyes, wanting to shut out all around him. Mere months ago this would have been considered a normal evening for him, but now he was infuriated with the very pressence of his so-called friends. He blamed Ginny. It was she that had made him dream of a different life without the responsibilities and the promise of future duties haunting him every day of his life. Her with her poor family, perfectly contented to live in the caverns of poverty and not less happy because of it. It was absurd, bordering on unnatural. 

Draco pulled the wad of parchment out of his robes and tried to smooth out the creases and wrinkles he had personally delt it across his knee. He stared at the unitdy loops of every letter, hoping that his fervent analysis would prove a different verdict. But he had no way of knowing, and all evidence was against him after Mildred Mortensen's display at dinner.

Sighing, Draco got to his feet, he did not want to go into the Slytherin common room looking as shook up as he supposed he did. He needed to clear his head once and for all, purge it of the thoughts unbecoming of his heritage. That was what he wanted. He just needed to take a walk and everything would be forgotten; life could go back to normal afterwards. With that hope, Draco set off with no particular place in mind to go.


	7. Classrooms at Night

Chapter 7: Classrooms at Night

He strolled slowly through the dark and empty halls of Hogwarts, allowing his fingers to scrape across the stone walls, as if making sure he hadn't slipped into some parallel universe like his recent behavior suggested he had. Or maybe it provided a little comfort to know he was not completely alone, even if it was simply an inanimate object.

Minutes ticked by, though Draco hardly noticed. Rounding the corner he found that he had made his way to the History of Magic classroom, where four hallways converged, just like the note had requested. How Draco had gotten there, he did not know. Perhaps it was his subconscious directing him along, or his childlike curiosity begging to solve the mystery. Either way, he was there.

He held his emerald encrusted pocket watch up to the eery glow resonating from the moon shining through one of the foggy windows; it was 10:55. Any minute Mildred Mortenson would come stumbling through the darkness with her usual dumbfounded expression, probably sporting a new assortment of bows on her tossled hair. There was no reason to wait around for the pitiful display, yet something kept him rooted to the spot. Doubt. 

Falling back to the shadows, Draco decided to wait. If anything, he'd at least be able to revel in Mildred's disappointed face when she realized he was not coming and ran away blubbering like a wounded walrus. Draco's lip twitched at the thought, but he didn't let his musings distract his fervent attention. 

11:05, no sign of anyone. _You'd think she'd be punctual, afterall she's the one that asked for this little rendez-vous_, Draco thought, growing more and more agitated as the minute hand of his pocketwatch continued forward. Just then, Draco's ears perked up as he heard the sound of someone hurrying forward. He slumped against the wall in a huff, however, when the figure emerging proved to be Mr. Filch and his snobby cat following at his heals. Draco waited a few minutes after Mr. Filch disappeared, as running into him this late at night would only result in another detention of collecting the spit-wads Peeves had shot up on the ceiling of the Charms ceiling. That was a house-elf's duty, not the heir to the Malfoy fortune's!

Finally, when all seemed permanently quiet, Draco stepped into the light of the torches flickering around the door to the History of Magic classroom. _Maybe Mildred has finally given up. Maybe her friends talked her out of coming, told her that it was a useless cause…_ Though, as far as Draco knew, Mildred Mortenson had no friends. He shrugged and turned to go back to his common room, there was no reason for being there in the first place. 

Draco made to cross back to the hallway he had come from when he heard something that made his body freeze up. "Y-you came…" a small voice said, sounding both surprised and nervous. Turning on his heals, Draco's rested upon the face of Ginny Weasley standing before him with her hands tightly clenched in her pockets. 

"I-it was you who wrote me?" Draco said before he could try and restrain his shocked tone from escaping. "W-what do you want?" He tried to add as if the site of her was repulsing.

"I needed to talk to you about… well, about stuff. But I am NOT doing it out here," the red haired girl replied quickly, before grabbing Draco by the arm and pushing him into the classroom, shutting the door after them both. 

"Don't touch me!" Draco shouted, wrenching his arm away and retreating to the far side of the classroom. _Who does she think she is?? _Even if he had dreamed every day that he'd be able to feel her skin on his, Draco Malfoy would not be forced anywhere.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said, clearly without an ounce of sincerity, "but I don't particularly feel like getting caught this late at night, especially not with you outside an empty classroom. _Some_ people might get suspicious," she added pointedly.

Her defiant tone was unnerving. What had happened to the miserable, sulking, mental Ginny Draco had been sculpting for the last several weeks? There was a new surge of courage in the girl even her fiery red hair seemed to obey. Draco glared at her.

"You'd be lucky to get that inference," he replied smuggly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on one of the many desks. "So what do you want then?"

"I came here to try and reason with you, as shocking as that might sound, I know most girls just play the part of the victim… but I'm not most girls," Ginny said. She was right and it was her uniqueness that fueled Draco's attraction. "I don't know why you are trying to mess with my head, and frankly, I don't care what your sadistic reasons are. But I want you to stop," she continued, as if this speech had been practiced many times.

"I waited for 15 minutes just to hear that? Gosh Weasel, I dare say I'm getting the wrong end of the deal here," Draco frowned.

"Did you not hear what I just said? I'm telling you to leave me alone, that I won't succomb to your mind games!" Ginny shrieked, her quickly elevating voice becoming more hysterical. "I won't let his happen again! No one will control me again!"

"Quiet down you over-grown carrot! I heard you! For heaven's sake, you're worse then a lonely banshee!" Draco yelled forcefully, clapping his hands over his ears as he spoke. As much as Draco despised his parents, he couldn't help but wish they had taught the fiery red-head a thing or two about the proper voice level for a young woman. Then again, Draco was surprised she had learned to walk uprightly after growing up in that delapitated cardboard box she called a home and being raised by those mutts. Ginny closed her mouth instantly and blushed.

"Why were you late anyway?" Draco asked curiously, after Ginny had quieted down.

"I-I wasn't sure if I should come. I turned around several times before I actually got here," she answered somewhat timidly.

"Why?" Draco pressed, though he already knew the answer and it made his lip twitch. She was afraid of him, of the power he seemed to have over her. What she didn't know, however, was the silent power she had over Draco. Ginny opened her mouth, but didn't answer.

If someone had entered the classroom just then, they'd scarcely realized it was already occuppied. Draco and Ginny could have been mistaken for part of the architecture, like statues, neither one daring to move or make a sound. 

"So…will you stop whatever you're doing to me…?" Ginny asked akwardly several minutes later. Draco looked up at the girl before him, her greens eyes illuminated with the pulsating glow of the torches overhead. 

"I think you've got it all wrong," Draco said slowly. Anger was beginning to boil within his chest at the mere site of Ginny. 

"W-what are you…" she tried.

"You're the one that has me hypnotized," he suddenly shouted, letting his fists clench at his sides and beginning to cross the room to Ginny. "You sit there from across the hall and tempt me, purposely trying to show me what I can't have. You know full well what you're doing. You act all coy and innocent, but you've cast some spell on me and I can't break it!"

Draco continued to yell, to vent all of his frustrations he'd kept within since the beginning of his infatuation, and the site of the frightened girl in front of him only fueled his anger. 

"Why don't you leave ME alone!" He finally finished, mere inches in her front of Ginny's pale and quivering face.

"I d-don't know what to say," she whispered, her emerald eyes locking with that of Draco's softening gray ones. 

Before Draco could stop himself, his lips had pressed forcefully against Ginny's making her stumble backwards slightly. Draco swept her up in his arms, not ready to allow Ginny to leave. He had been so patient, a word he normally did not know the meaning to and something he rarely had. Draco did not feel her try to pull away. Even if it was from fear, it didn't matter; she didn't resist. For this was not just the dream like he had every waking moment. This time he could actually taste her lips, smell her sweet perfume, and clutch her flowing hair. Their eyes were tightly shut, both knowing that when they indeed opened them again they would have to face the consquences of their actions. 


	8. After Thoughts

Chapter 8: After Thoughts

The soft snoring told Draco it was safe to enter-- once his roommates began this nightly ritual there was no risk of them waking. They knew when Draco was gone after midnight it meant he was consumed with the beauties of Hogwarts, and if Crabbe and Goyle were still awake when he returned, they usually wanted details. Almost always he would oblidge, but not this time. This time was different, no matter how hard he wished it wasn't.

He silently crept across the room, not wanting to risk stirring the gang of boys snoring away, cautiously skirting around the furniture corners and stepping over clothes that had been carelessly thrown aside. Kicking off his shoes, Draco slipped into his bed, not even bothering to undress—an oddity in itself. Draco didn't like the hinderance of clothes while curled up in his silk sheets. They stuck to his skin and didn't allow him to feel the soft fabric around him.

The air around him was chilly, having seeped in from the winter world outside through the cracks of the ancient windowpanes, but Draco did not feel it. Normally he would have instantly bundled up in his extra down comforter, creating a warm haven, yet still it remained folded at the foot of his bed. A warmth had been pulsating inside him, corsing through his veins since he had first tasted Ginny Weasley's intoxicatingly innocent lips. 

The events began to roll through his mind again, playing like a dramatic muggle movie as he lay on his back, staring up at the stone ceiling where a spider was weaving its intricate web. After Ginny got over the initial shock of the silver-haired boy yelling at her with accusations and then kissing her, she did something Draco did not expect. She kissed him back. Certainly that was how it played out in his dreams, but this was reality. 

Draco didn't know how long he and Ginny kissed in the empty classroom. It seemed like an eternity and yet, not quite long enough. And what was more shocking, Draco was the first to pull away, breathing heavily as if her kisses winded him. His silver eyes gazed at the girl with her eyes still closed, cheeks flushed, and her lips still frozen from the kiss. He was certain the moment she regained her grasp on the conscious, she would regret kissing him back. Perhaps she'd even flee from the room. But as her doe eyes fluttered open, and her facial muscles relaxed, Ginny did not move. 

They stared at each other, the two enemies of Hogwarts, both wondering if a grevous mistake had been made. Even the air around them seemed to hold its breath, waiting for one of them to pass judgement. Draco wanted to tell her not to worry, that everything would be ok, that he'd leave her alone—anything she wanted to hear, really. But the words would not formulate, his mind was a mess of jumbled, racing thoughts, and before he could even try, Ginny stepped past him and exited the room.

He didn't try to go after her. Draco didn't know what he would have said if he had caught up with her. Rolling onto his side, Draco knew he would not be getting any sleep that night. There was nothing he could do about what happened, and he felt horrible. He had thought Ginny kissing him back would have satisfied his obsession. But Draco felt worse then ever, though he didn't think it was possible. For now he was left with his musings of what the next weeks would entail.

As the days went by Draco was learning that dreams were in fact better than reality. To any normal person, that would have been obvious—to them dreams were hardly attainable. On the other hand Draco had grown up believing that dreams were mere manifestations of events to come, events he knew would come with the right kind of power. The kind of power his last name guarenteed. But all of that was changing.

The night when Draco and Ginny's lips met, he had been fairly reassured of her mutual desire as she kissed him back. Yet now he was not as confident. Scenarios played through his head of what could have happened if he followed her, and Draco found himself more and more engrossed with picking each of the "could have beens" a part. She might have waited for him, maybe even welcomed his chase. Then again, Ginny might have been furious once she realized what had transpired. Maybe she had been caught off guard and only kissed him back because she was stunned. Maybe she would have been angry… Draco rubbed his cheek subconciously.

"Mr. Malfoy, watch how you cut your gillyweed tentacles. I said two cms, not four!" A familiar deep voice snapped, though trying not to be too loud. But it didn't work. Snape's angered whisper had echoed through the Potion's dungeon and now all of the Gryffindors were snickering loudly, some pointing.

"That's enough!" Snape shouted, whipping around to face the class, his face more blanched then usual. The class immediately went silent and most of the students went back to their cauldrons, all except Potter. Draco could feel his nosey, smug eyes piercing him, but he refused to look up. He would not give the Scar King any satisfaction.

Draco began roughly cutting the wriggling plant, thinking about Potter's gloating stare as he stabbed and slice at it. 

"Harry, pay attention," Draco heard the mudblood whisper to her friend as Snape began swiftly walking towards them with a furious glint in his eye. The frazzle haired mutant was quick. She knew Snape would be watching for the next person to step out of line to lay into for Draco's careless mistake. He snorted. And everyone thought **Potter** was so smart. Atfer 7 years he still hadn't figured out how to keep out of trouble. 

"Mr. Potter! How many times do I have to tell you your cauldron is that way," Snape raged, pointing sharply at the bubbling pot. "You Gryffindors **will** never learn! 20 points from Gryffindor for your complete disregard of the rules," he added, scribbling on his scroll the point deduction.

"But Professor Snape, Malfoy wasn't paying attention either and you didn't mark him…" The nosey mudblood began.

"That'll be another 20 points from Gryffindor. When you become a teacher Ms. Granger, which is a highly unlikely possibility, you can make the decisions. But as for now, this is my house, my rules, my game," Professor Snape yelled, putting his fists on Granger's desk and leaning to leer at her.

Draco smirked, he had been wrong about two things: the Mudblood wasn't as smart as everyone thought she was, and class wouldn't been so bad afterall. 


	9. Fights and Blood

Chapter 9: Fights and Blood

"I hate Snape! You'd think after all these years he'd finally give up his emnity towards my parents and leave me the hell alone," Draco heard Perfect Potter complain as his Mudblood friend tried to catch up to him after exiting the dungeons. Potter's other lacky wasn't with them, Draco smirked. Weasley hadn't received enough OWLS to get into Snape's advance Potions class, but then again, no one seemed too surprised, especially the Weasel himself.

Draco hurried forward, not going to let this golden opportunity pass him by. "Have you ever thought Potter that it's your complete and utter incompetance that infuriates Professor Snape so?" Draco mocked after stepping in front of Potter and Granger, almost causing a collision in the jammed hallway.

Draco didn't know how it was possible, but Potter's already contorted scrunched up even more as he was given another sour dose. His legendary scar was hardly visible as his brows furrowed to their compacity. Harry drew a long hissing breath through his clenched teeth before saying,"You'd know about incompetance wouldn't you Malfoy?" 

"I ought to after having to watch YOU for the last seven years," Draco snapped back without hesitating, and with equal amounts of malice. By now most of the students had formed a circle paving the way for the fight they could feel brewing in the air. Like the very waves of the Red Sea, the students parted, the Slytherins behind Draco and the Gryffindors behind Harry, as if physically showing their allegiance and daring anyone not in their loyalties to cross the invisible and fatal line. Some of the first years that had wandered into the hallway and taken their positions with their houses even let little growls escape their lips like they were lion cubs learning to hunt. 

But all of this was just space to Draco. The only thing with any relevance was that right then and there, standing before him was Harry Potter. Too long had Draco waited to physically show all of Hogwarts what he thought of their would-be hero, and was his chance. Granger made to slip out of the crowd, no doubt to find a teacher, but Draco would not let that happen.

"That's right Granger, go get a teacher. Save your precious Scarhead from getting himself into a painful problem one more time, it's only prolonging the inevitable," Draco smirked, not breaking his eye contact with Potter and allowing the trademark smirk to pass over his pale lips as he clenched and unclenched his fists. 

Potter bit his lip, hard from the looks of it, and clenched a sweating hand around Granger's wrist. "Don't," he hissed, and she surprisingly obeyed. "This has gone on too long Malfoy. Lets end this, no using wands, no sneaky tricks, just man on man."

"I agree to all of your terms, but I don't really see a man in front of me to fight with," Draco laughed, a wave of equally nasty snickers filled the Slytherin end of the hall. Potter's temper was rising, he was taking the bait. Draco laughed to himself thinking of the useful lesson his father had given him while instructing him in the art of dueling, "the champion is always the one can stay emotionless and collected through the fight. Anger only let's the mind get cluttered and increases the probability of error." No matter what, Draco was going to remain emotionless for he knew Lucius was right, about this at least.

Harry made a frustrated grunting sound before quickly shedding his robes and rolling up his sleeves. Draco smirked before doing the same and tossing them aside. It was time for the final cut, the thing that would send him over the edge.

"I'd like to officially state my displeasure with this barbaric muggle custom. How'd you learn to fight like this Potter? Did your ruffian Godfather teach you? Oh that's right, he's dead," Draco added with a particular snap in his tone.

That was it. With a strangled yell, Potter leapt forward and tackled Draco to the floor, flailing his arms in front, hoping to make contact with Draco's smug face. The screeches of the Mudblood echoed through the dark hallway like a struggling pig as the onlookers chanted and rooted for their housemates.

A shot of pain surged through Draco's face as if fire had ignited on the spot of contact. In turn he yanked Harry's head back by his unruly hair and used the other fist to deal him a similar fate. Potter seemed stunned for a minute and Draco used the opportunity to push him off and get to his feet. Both boys were glaring at each other, their sholdors rising up and down, trying to get a breath before diving back in. Harry made to lunge again, but Draco was not willing to end up another heap on the floor. As Harry drew near, Draco grabbed him by the wrists and used the momentum of the furious boy to throw him into the wall. With a loud thump and a scream from Granger, Harry crashed against the wall and slumped to the floor. The Mudblood ran to his side and the hallway fell silent as the students stood awestruck at the fallen Gryffindor. 

Panting, Draco leered over his opponent, fallen and beaten. It took all of his willpower not to finish what he had started, but Potter was not worth getting sent Azkaban, as tempting as the malicious thought was. Harry raised his head slowly, a stream of blood coming from his nose and joining the river already flowing down his chin. 

"You WASTE- MY- TIME," Draco sneered, each word shooting out of his mouth like a sharp tipped arrow aiming to stab. Harry's hand shot up and reached for his wand, but Draco had been trained in the art of dueling since before Harry knew he was a wizard. The silver-haired champion whipped out his slender weapon and shouted, "Difindo!"

Potter groaned as the slicing curse hit his cheek and did the duty of its caster. He dropped his wand and cupped a hand around the newest wound and fell back again.

"Looks like you'll have another scar, eh Potter? That's what you like isn't it? Now you'll be even more famous then before; your world can keep on turning…and you'll have me to thank." With that, Draco turned on his heals and pushed his way through the crowd of jaw-dropped students.

No feeling could overshadow what Draco was feeling right now. He had triumphed. Images of Potter laying half-unconcious on the ground would be sufficient to fill him with a lifetime of happiness. Finally-- after fighting every urge to knock his block off, restraining his natural impulse every day for seven years—finally, it had happened. And it felt absolutely glorious. 

He continued walking down the hall practically glowing with superiority, despite his limp, like a brilliant candle in a darkened chamber. Even with the rusted taste of his own metallic blood, Draco felt like a God. He had single-handedly proved to Hogwarts, hell, the whole world that Potter was not so perfect. And Draco Malfoy, his archenemy, was the one to find that "Achille's heal." It was too delicious. He wanted to fly to highest mountain and shout of his win, or plaster it all over the wizarding papers so the whole world could laught at Potter like Draco was doing now. Yes, nothing could bring him down…


	10. Consequences

Chapter 9: Consequences

"Mr. Malfoy," a sharp voice voice yelled from behind Draco, telling him he was in trouble. Draco turned to face Professor McGonagall. "Come with me this instant!" she commanded, fire almost leaping from her suddenly brilliant brown eyes, before turning and hurrying forward. Still bleeding heavily, Draco limped after her, knowing exactly where they were headed. Dumbledore's office. It wasn't a surprise, he knew his actions had consequences, but if the headmaster wanted an apology from Draco, a drop of remorse even, Dumbledore would be waiting for eternity. Beating Harry Potter was the best thing Draco had ever done, regardless of the damage. Relieving some of the built up pressure from the last 7 years was actually therapeutic, Draco found, and he reminded himself to conjur a punching bag in the shape of Potter when he was done being punished. 

They stopped in front of the familiar gargoyle, Draco had been brought hear many times before. This wasn't anything new. Professor whipped her arm around and pointed sharply at the stairs, "He's expecting you," she said through lips that looked tighter then her perfect bun.

"As usual," Draco said dully, as if he might fall asleep standing up at any moment.

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said, obviously having to control the level of her voice, "you underestimating the seriousness of what you have done. I think you'll be surprised with this meeting, it won't end in another detention, I can promise you that."

Draco glared at her, she was trying to take away Draco's happiness. He wouldn't let her. She could not ruin his elation with her veiled threats. He stepped onto the staircase and was immediately pulled upward until Draco was infront of the large oak doors. He raised his hand to knock, but heard the "come in," from the old man inside before he could do so. Draco grunted. _Dumbledore thinks he's so clever, thinks he can scare us with his oh so mystical power,_ Draco thought to himself as he entered the cluttered office. 

Dumbledore, who was sitting at his desk, gestured to the wooden chair for Draco to sit down in. Draco lowered himself in the straight-backed chair and stared the head master straight in the eye, as if nothing could phase him.

"Mr. Potter was hurt quite badly." Dumbledore stopped, searching Draco's face with his pale eyes. Draco blinked. "He said that you started the trouble." 

"Of course he did," Draco said simply, slumping in his chair a little and allowing his eyes to wander.

"Do you deny it?" Dumbledore asked.

"No," Draco said. 

"So it was entirely your fault?" Dumbledore pressed.

"Entirely," Draco replied tonelessly.

Dumbledore stared at him, studying Draco's stone expression. "I'm afraid I have little choice then," he said slowly, as if hoping Draco would interrupt and give him a reason to stop. But he didn't. "I have no other choice then to suspend you for two weeks starting tomorrow." Again Dumbledore waited for some sign of objection, but all Draco said was, "Are we done now?"

Dumbledore sighed in disappointed, but Draco could care less.

"Yes," the frail wizard said. "Pack your things tonight, you will leave first thing tomorrow morning. Your homework will be owled to you each day."

Draco rose to his feet and exited the office without another word. So what? He could suffer at home just as well as he could suffer at Hogwarts. They were just places. But somehow, Draco didn't think it would be so bad this time. He still had the image of Potter flat on his back, looking up at him with terrified eyes, and that simple picture would keep him through anything his mother or father put him through in the next two weeks.

__

That stupid old man, Draco thought to himself, scowling as he walked briskly through the chilly halls of Hogwarts. _He thinks that is a bloody punishment, but getting sent away from here is the best birthday present anyone could give me!_ His birthday. Draco froze. If anyone had been watching, they would have thought someone had conjured an invisible wall to block Draco's path because of his sudden stop. 

Tomorrow was his birthday. His 18th in fact. Draco continued walking again, though obviously distracted by the thoughts swirling in his head. He knew it was coming soon, his initiation. Then Draco's fate would be sealed and his life would continue directly down the path he'd been born for. There was no use in trying to stop it, why would he even want to try? The Dark Lord was generous to his faithful servants, and Lucius Malfoy was one of them; Draco would be taken care of. 

But the Dark Lord, Draco shuddered involuntarily and drew his cloak tigther around his front like a shield. He didn't know whether it was Voldemort's pure cruelty or his horrific shriveled form that scared him more. As a child, Draco had been told stories of Tom Riddle as a student and his transformation into the most powerful dark lord the world had ever known. Draco snorted, most kids were lulled to sleep with stories of princes saving the princess from the dragon, inducing them to dream of perfect endings and candy-paved roads. Instead of fairy tales, Draco was lectured on skinning muggles alive without getting your hands dirty, raiding villages, and how to use Unforgivable Curses to maximize pain—Lucius' form of the perfect bedtime story.

Draco shook his head as he remembered hiding wide-eyes under his Slytherin comforter after his father left the room, afraid the Dark Lord was hiding in his closet just daring Draco to come out so he could throw him in a pot of boiling water like the muggles. But he never hid when his father was around. Instead he'd bite his lips and try to duplicate the deranged grin on Lucius' face as he recounted every disgusting detail.

That was when Draco was most afraid. In his father's face he could see Lord Voldemort. Draco shuddered again as he rounded the corner to the Slytherin common room, thinking of the monster that had spawned him. For the second time since Draco left Dumbledore's office, he skidded to a hault. Draco could see a mess of red curls covering the form of a shaking girl whose head was burried in her knees on the ground just outside the Slytherin entrance.

"Ginny," Draco breathed.


	11. Fighting It

Chapter 10: Fighting It

His stomach lurched and for a moment, Draco contemplated sneaking away and hiding out until the girl had left her seemingly fixed post. He shook is head. _Stop being dumb,_ he chided himself, _she's infront of MY house afterall! _That's right, she had come to HIS house, why should HE be worried? Draco took a deep breath and stepped forward. Soon the previously silent hall echoed the softs padding of Draco's steps. Ginny's head shot up and Draco wondered if his tongue would ever recover from the whole his teeth had just made, all while siltently praying to whatever omni-present being was closest to keep him from tripping over his all of the sudden numb feet.

Ginny looked like she would have permanent streaks on her face from where all the tears had been. But under that, she looked furious. The bright red curls bobbed as Ginny scrambled to her feet as Draco approached and for a second, the torchlight caught her eyes and made them flare.

Draco's mouth opened to ask what on earth she was doing there, but he didn't have a chance to form the words. A loud 'SMACK' filled the hallway and Draco's face whipped to the side under the force of one small yet powerful hand. Draco immediately covered his stinging cheek with his palm, the burning sensation told him there would be a mark there tomorrow, along with all of the other bruises he had accrued from the tossle earlier.

"Damnit Ginny!" Draco yelled, as he felt his lip starting to blead again. It was the second time Ginny Weasley had slapped him, and Draco hoped it would be the last. Someone must have given her private slapping lessons. Draco had been slapped on numerous occassions, but Ginny's hand championed all others. "What in the name of…" But he didn't finish again, for Ginny's hand has taken another strike at Draco's other cheek.

Draco was stunned, but had no intention of being Ginny's punching bag any longer. As Ginny's hand raised again, Draco grabbed her firmly by both wrists.

"I hate you!" she screeched, struggling with all of her might to get away from Draco's hold and mame him further with any of her flailing body parts. "I hate you! I just want you to die!"

This was familiar. "You're nothing! You're worthless!" Lucius would scream, kicking a fallen Draco in the stomach one more time after deciding his son had bled enough. He was used to being told this and worse. Draco knew how to take it from his father. But she didn't mean it! She couldn't. Even if Ginny did, Draco would not let her. He had to shut her up; she shouldn't keep saying these things!

With one hand around both of her skinny wrists, Draco's other hand wrapped around the back of Ginny's neck and forced her forward to meet his lips. Roughly he kissed her, bruising her soft lips so they'd never speak such words to him again. Her scream was muffled by Draco's lips and Ginny weakly continued to fight against his hold. 

Finally, Draco let go of her wrists and Ginny fell into his arms as if her legs had buckeled below her. 

"I hate you…" she sobbed quietly, pounding uselessy against his chest as they both sunk to the floor, Draco's arms now around her. The torches flickered in the empty hallway as a cold winter breeze swept through, rustling the hair of the two students holding onto eachother as they knelt on the floor. 

Finally Draco got to his feet again, forcing Ginny up beside him.

"Sorting Hat," Draco said. Automatically, the wall on his left disappeared and the empty Slytherin common room revealed itself. Breathing heavily, Draco extended his pale hand to Ginny. She hesitated, knowing what it meant for her to accept it, but she took it. Immediately, Draco lead her into the common room and up the stairs without a word to his dormitory. Ginny went in first, and Draco shut the door behind her and applied a locking spell before turning back to her. 

There she was before him, trembling. A long-time family enemy standing in front of his bed, knowing what was coming just as much as Draco did. Both knowing it was wrong. Both dreading the consequences. Both wishing they could stop it. And both knowing that that was impossible. Draco stepped infront of her, letting his robes slip off his shoulders and onto the floor as he walked. Raising and pale hand, his fingers slid down her face and grazed her chest.

"Say you don't hate me," he breathed, his lip touching Ginny's nose, making her close her eyes. "Say it."

Ginny inhaled deeply. "I don't hate you," she whispered. 

The Great Hall was buzzing that night, students talking to each other about the fight and the eyewitnesses filling in those unfortunate enough to miss it. Some said Harry had beaten Draco up so badly that Dumbledore was sending for a casket. Others said Draco attacked Harry out of nowhere, making some of the more naïve first year students cry. Not many of the students knew what really happened outside of the Potion's classroom, and those that did found it much more entertaining to add their own versions.

In one part of the castle, two friends stood over the hospital wing bed of their beloved friend, one crying and the other plotting revenge. But in the bottom of the school, where only the green and silver lovers reside, two students from two very different walks of life were acting on impulses they had been harboring for several months. Draco Malfoy hated Ginny Weasley and what she had done to him. But he needed her and she needed him, and Draco Malfoy had never needed anyone. 

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Ok, unfortunately when I was trying to redo my fic to put in chapters, it got totally removed from the site and I had to repost it. So now all of my previous reviews are gone, which really pisses me off. Anyhow, I'd adore it if you would keep reviewing for me. It helps with the writing, my overall self-esteem etc. lol 

I don't know the name of the person who asked me because that review got deleted, but as this is only a PG-13 fic, I will not be going into any more detail then why I already have. We'll be cutting to an "after the fact" scene, but there won't be any foreplay description. Sorry. I hope you keep reading anyways!


	12. Mornings After and Goodbyes

Hi everyone. Thanks for the reviews. If you look at the bottom, you'll see some replies to your comments, etc. Sorry this chapter took so long to get up, I've been incredibly busy with school and stuff. Usually I try and post every weekend, but things have gotten out of control over here, so it didn't happen. Thanks for you patience and here we go!

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Chapter 12: Mornings After and Goodbyes

Draco curiously examined the girl, whose arms were wrapped around his bear chest, breathing deeply. The silver moonlight had seeped through the foggy dorm window and seemed to create a permanent spotlight on her fair face, illuminating Ginny's defined features. 

It had all happened in a whirlwind of emotions-- arms and legs moving wildly, hands groping, clothes flying, skin touching skin—with no sense of control or order, need being the only driving force. Ginny had immediately fallen asleep afterwards, perhaps because she was physically drained, or maybe because she thought it was all a dream anyway—she just had to go back to sleep and it would be erased from her memory like other dreams. Perhaps she wanted to forget it, Draco mused as his fingers traced the straight line of her spine down her exposed back. 

__

She won't be able to though, no matter how hard she tries, Draco thought to himself as he scanned her still form. He had taken her virginity. She wouldn't forget that, girls were silly like that. It meant something to them, like a treasure they kept locked away from prying eyes until they were willing to share it with someone special. Ginny hadn't told him Draco was her first, but he had slept with enough girls to know better. The gasps she made during the act were sign enough. No, she would never forget. 

Draco's eyes rested on her bright face, as innocent and chaste as it had always been. Draco sighed, she was still Ginny. His plan of desacration had failed. But somehow it didn't seem to matter. Draco still had gotten what he wanted. Last night it was Ginny in his bed, Ginny saying his name, and Ginny asleep now at his side—not Potter's. 

Frowning, he looked over at all of the room in his silk-sheeted bed. Ginny was still clinging to him tightly, and Draco grimaced. He liked his space and now he was sequestered to the very edge with a girl who seemed to be holding on for dear life with no hint she'd be moving any time soon. Why was she on his side when there was all that room over there? Normally, he would have woken up his bedmate and made her move away to give him room. But he didn't this time. With a frown still etched on his face, Draco closed his eyes and tried to sleep in this new strange position of closeness.

***

Ginny's eyes fluttered open as Draco shook her softly. 

"You should leave before anyone else is up," he said toneless before returning to his task of packing his trunk. 

Ginny sleepily rolled to her back and blinked a few times through her mess of red curls, obviously trying to force herself awake. The room was still dark as the sun had yet not risen and the appearance of night only made rousing more difficult. Draco noticed Ginny's searching eyes as he pulled a bundle of shirts out of his drawer and put them sloppily into his trunk. Ginny enhaled sharply and bit her lip, looking at the 3 other beds in the Slytherin dorm room.

"Don't worry, they're not here," Draco said, seeing her discomfort. Ginny immediately relaxed and Draco continued packing. He couldn't blame her, if they had been in the Gryffindor house, Draco would have been just as uncomfortable. Whatsmore, being in this vulnerable position with Crabbe and Goyle in the same room would not be enticing to any Hogwarts girl, or boy for that matter. 

"Draco, what are you doing?" She said slowly, pulling the green sheet up to her chin with a sudden burst of new-found modesty.

"I'm suspended, Dumbledore is shipping me home," Draco replied, not slowing his packing pace but still smirking at Ginny's embarassment.

"Oh," she said quietly, looking down at her fumbling hands. There was no need to ask why. "For how long?"

"Two weeks," Draco answered awkwardly. This was the longest civil conversation Draco and Ginny had ever had. They had one full minute so far and Ginny wasn't in tears and Draco hadn't threatened her yet. Draco was surprised the world hadn't collapsed in on itself in utter shock, the day was already full of surprises. _Maybe there is something to this communication thing afterall- she said something, I responded, then she responded, then I said something._ But it took all of his concentration to bite back the cutting remarks circling in his head—"You were raised by wolves," "You're a worthless excuse for a witch," "Your house looks like several cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other." Draco stiffened his jaw and pretended to concentrate on packing, though his trunk was already full to capacity.

"Oh," Ginny said again. 

Her pressence was beginning to annoy him—Draco was torn between throwing her out and smothering her lips with his animal kisses. He hated how she could bring out this inner struggle while looking so calm.

"Draco?"

"What?" He snapped back, more harshly then he had intended.

"Could you pass me my clothes?" She asked timidly, pointing with one hand to the pile of material shed for its restrictive quality the previous night and using the other to keep the sheet tight to her chest.

Draco gathered them up and tossed the clothes to her. He couldn't help but watch the girl as she dressed, fumbling awkwardly with her bra in her nervousness. Looking at her flushed face, Draco wondered if there would ever be a time when Ginny was not so blantantly uncomfortable in his pressence. Not that he minded. He enjoyed how she trembled at his frigid touch; how she recoiled when he carressed her; how she allowed herself to be so dominated. 

Ginny slipped out of the bed after donning a sweater with a horribly mishapen 'G' knitted on the front, the silk sheets slightly clinging to the bare parts of her skin. Her cheeks had gone back to their normal fair tone, though Draco's eyes never left her. After finally slipping on the jeans she wore the day before and running a hand through her tangled hair, Ginny made for the door.

"I'll be seeing you then," she said, as if asking a question instead of making , a statement, and not daring to look Draco in the face. Silence invaded the room, almost stifling their breaths. Draco wanted to tell Ginny she was just another girl to be had and then booted out, to make her understand that they could never be, to tell her this would be the one and only time.

Draco opened his mouth, trying to force out words he knew he had to say. "Look," he began, stepping towards Ginny.

"No, you don't have to say anything, I understand," she interrupted, lifting a hand up to silence him and shifting uncomfortably as she opened the snake encrusted door.

Draco's gaze fell to the floor. Ginny knew it was impossible, just as much as Draco did. They were too different, from two different places, with two different lives ahead of them. Gryffindors and Slytherins weren't meant for each other.

Suddenly Ginny turned around and stepped back in the room, not ready to leave the room where her life had changed or the boy who had changed it. "Can I ask you something?" she said hesitantly but with a suprising look of confidence.

Draco nodded curiously.

"Harry told me you used your wand first in the fight. Is it true?" Their gaze locked. Ginny's soft brown eyes were pleading for the truth. 

"No," Draco said plainly, stunned to hear himself and even more stunned when a smile passed over Ginny's lips, instead of the disbelief he had anticipated.

"You know, I think there's more good in you then you realize Draco Malfoy," Ginny said softly, her lips still tickled with a grin, before turning on her heels and disappearing down the stairs.

Draco closed the door behind her and leant against it, staring at his open trunk. _If she only knew what tomorrow had in store for me, she wouldn't think so._

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Oh, another thing before responding to reviews, I have a number of short little ficlets on here I'd love for you all to read. Most of them… ok, well, all of them are angsty. The newest one is about Cedric Diggory and deals with putting up emotional walls, etc. So feel free to check them out.

marylani: I'm so happy you like it! Sorry about not updating for so long, I'll keep trying though!

Joalim: Wow, I really appreciate your comment. It's really important to me to write Draco this way. Call me a fanatic, but I've created this whole little world of Draco and his past in my head. I am so glad you appreciate it. Thank you for following my fic for so long, it's good to know there are people out there that enjoy it even though they don't post.

Erised: Draco's mind has been elsewhere, lol. Also, like I said, I didn't want to be very graphic, so that's why I didn't do any snogging before hand. I'm happy you like it though!

ASL aka Ryan, hey babe! Thanks for the review. Glad to see you enjoy me and my angsty ways. ;)

kayumanggi: Thanks for sticking up for me and my fic. I honestly wonder how people find so much time to make such dumb "criticisms." Honestly, I wish I had that much free time, though I'd use it in other more productive ways. I'm happy my story "struck your interest." I do my best! Thanks for the comments.

burgosdamasco: You're my new best friend! *sigh* Someone who understands Draco the way I do! I totally agree with you on everything you said. Draco, to me, has so much baggage that has made him the way he is today. He possess every evil, cruel feeling I have ever had. But he's not COMPLETELY emotionless. As you will see in the next chapter, things are going to get a lot more dark and complicated for Draco. As much as I adore Draco, his life isn't about to get easier. He might have find some comfort somewhere, but it can't be compared to what he'll endure on the other side of the spectrum. Thank you so much for your comments, I really appreciate them. You have no idea. 

Orlandoluva: Thanks for standing up to Crissylang, who apparently wasn't observant enough to realize all those things. You gotta love flamers, eh?

Crissy Lang: I really don't have anything else to say to you after what Orlandoluva and kayumanggi have said. I just think that you're a pretty contradictory person that would look somewhat smart if you kept your mouth shut.

TarynMalfoy88: I hope you liked this chapter just as much. J 

reddevil7: Wow, thank you for telling me that. I'm so honored you were so moved!

To everyone else, thanks again for the comments. Please keep commenting! Let me know what you like and don't like, etc.


	13. Returning Home and Accepting Destiny

Hey guys, I'm so horrible, I know. Bad Cindy. Things have been more then crazy in my life, that's the only excuse I can give you. To make up for my absence, I have 5 whole pages for you! Yay!

Thanks for the reviews, I honestly don't have time to go through you all individually. Hopefully you aren't offended. 

Basically I've decided to make a "rule" that if you want more story, I need reviews. Tell me what you don't like and what you like. Come on, I know you want to. Without further ado, here is chapter 13. 

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Chapter 13: Returning Home and Accepting Destiny

The more Draco thought about Ginny's farewell comment, the more it bothered him. He thought about it as he finished packing and all when carrying his trunk down the stairs. What she said was knawing at him like a rat nibbling at a fraying piece of rope. There was no good in him! How could such a seemingly intelligent girl say something so blantantly wrong?

How could she think he was good? After tormenting Ginny all these months, using mind games on her, finally sleeping with her and then kicking her out with no promise of a future—Draco was far from the proverbial "good." Shaking his head, Draco muttered "Motor Trunk" and watched as his trunk rose gracefully off the ground. Now it was over and he wouldn't have to think about Ginny Weasley again Draco grinned as he headed for Dumbledore's office, per his instruction. 

The raging fire within him, pushing Draco to obtain her, was finally quenched. No more staring at her from across the Great Hall; no more sleepless nights with images of the redheaded girl prancing through his mind. Yes, life would be much simpler without her occupying his every thought. 

Before the promise of a life free of the Weasley could sink in, Draco found himself in front of Dumbledore's eery stone protector. "Gummy bears," Draco muttered, glad no one was around to hear him say such a juvenile password. "Stupid old coot," Draco added vehemently under his breath as he allowed the newly appeared stairs to take him spiraling upward. 

Uncharacteristically, the professor's doors were opened, and Draco hesitated before entering, gliding his trunk in behind him. Dumbledore was at his cluttered desk, stroking his beard in obvious contemplation while a man sat in a chair before him, his silvery hair cascading over the back of the chair like a waterfall of snowy fabric.

"Ah, Draco," the old headmaster said, pushing his half-moon spectacles up his crooked nose and rising to his feet.

Draco looked around, for some reason he felt like there were hundreds of eyes peeking at him. But there was no one. 

The other man stood and turned to face him. "Professor. Father," Draco nodded with cringing courtesy and setting his trunk on the floor. 

"I was just telling the Headmaster, Draco, that two weeks for merely acting under provocation is hardly just and that the Ministry, I'm sure, would be quite interested in learning of his cruel new wave of punishment," Lucius Malfoy said, swooping to the side of his son, holding his serpent staff tightly, as if restraining himself from using it on the frail man before him.

"Lucius, I'm sure the board will understand when they see the injuries Harry Potter sustained," Dumbledore answered calmly, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly.

"Can Draco help it if he is a better dueler? It is certainly no reason punish him. He was only reacting to that damned Harry Potter and his taunting. Draco has a name to uphold and…"

"Draco confessed to starting the fight, Lucius," the wizard interrupted, his visage of serenity starting to flicker.

Lucius' gaze shot down at his son. Draco hated how his father could make him feel so small, weak, and guilty all at the same time, with one of his perfected disapproving looks. Without warning, Lucius wolloped Draco soundly on the back of his head with the snake adorned staff. Draco's hand shot up swiftly in instinct, covering the nape of his, now sticky, neck from another one of Lucius' blows.

"Lucius," Dumbledore said sharply, voice elevated as he stepped forward and grasped the end of Lucius' raised staff. "There is no reason for violence. Your son honorably told the truth!"

Lucius locked eyes with the Headmaster and gritted his teeth. "Don't tell me how to handle my son old man," he threatened, bits of siliva shooting out of his perced mouth and strands of hair tumbling over his shoulders as he leant in to leer at Dumbledore. 

For a second, Draco almost thought his father would strike the old man for having restrained him. The fact of the matter was that Draco wouldn't have mided much, at least his father's aggressions would be handed to someone else. It was incredible, Draco thought, it hadn't even been 5 minutes and already, blood had been spilt. Welcome to the Malfoys.

Lucius' face suddenly went loose and a look of forced placedness washed over him as if he had suddenly slipped into a peaceful coma. Draco could almost hear Lucius' mind telling him to conduct himself with calm, it was the same type of voice that spoke to Draco. All Malfoy's had one, Draco supposed.

"Come Draco, I'll see to your trunk," Lucius said with a sneer, grasping Draco by the back of his collar and pushing him towards the fireplace. Lucius pulled out a handful of glittering green sand and threw it into the hearth, gesturing for Draco to step in. 

"Malfoy Manor," Draco muttered, rubbing the back of his head after giving Dumbledore's office another look. Instantly, his body was sent speeding into the floo network, back to a world where the title 'Lord Voldemort' was reveered, death eaters were treated like kings, and the name 'Weasley' was forbidden from utterance.

The spinning suddenly stopped. He had arrived. Draco stepped out of the giant hearth, without ducking, and found himself in the Malfoy entryway. The room was cavernous and lavish, with vaulted ceilings and crystal chandeliers casting rainbow patterns on the green and silver draped walls, intensifying the grandeur of the expanse. 

A house-elf scurried down one of the marble stairways with an armfull of soiled clothes, tripping on one of the steps as he noticed the youngest master for the first time. The bundle of clothes flew out of his bandaged hands as he tumbled like a snowball rolling down a hill from momentum. Finally the elf landed with a thud at the bottom of the staircase and immediately jumped to his feet, piling the garments in his stick-like arms again.

"Be careful!" Draco snapped, stepping forward to aim a kick at the ugly creature's head.

"Thim-… That is…Harry is sorry, young master," the elf squeeked, closing its eyes and drooping its ears like a dog that was just swat on the nose. 

Draco suddenly smirked to himself after hearing the small elf's quivering voice. He had almost forgotten! Even though the elf said his name was Thimble, Draco had changed it to Harry. This particular elf was the ugliest one Draco had ever seen and it only seemed fitting to match it with the most hideous name Draco could conjur. When the elf learned he was named after the famous Harry Potter, his orbbed eyes filled with threatening tears and he hiccoughed in gratitude. After Draco dealt him a beating or two though, the elf had learned to hate the name, just like his master did. 

Lowering his foot, Draco unhooked his soot-covered cloak and dropped in on the floor infront of the house-elf. "Clean that and bring it to my room," Draco ordered.

"M-mistress says to b-bring young Malfoy to her chamber when he arrives, sir," the house-elf said hesitantly, looking at the towering figure in front of him, hand drawn over his irregular-shaped skull protectively. 

"You useless piece of filth, why didn't you tell me at once?" Draco roared suddenly, clenching his fists threateningly and not allowing the small creature to respond. "I've got half a mind to beat your wreched face in!" With that Draco stomped up the perfectly polished stairs, leaving ash and soot with every step. 

Draco rubbed his temples as he climbed the never-ending staircase. "Sometimes house elves are more trouble then they're worth," he muttered angrily under his breath. "Ginny is lucky she doesn't have to…" Draco cut himself off, and whipped his around, half expecting his father to be their ready to punish him for uttering her name in the manor. What was SHE doing in his mind?! He had re-entered a world where the Weasleys were not a topic of discussion. Draco had thought, or hoped rather, that crossing the threshold back into the dark world would automatically end all ties he had established with the youngest Weasley at Hogwarts. 

Straightening his collar, Draco gritted his teeth and approached the door to his mother's private bedroom. There was no question about it, Ginny had no right to be in his thoughts. Draco would not allow his mind to wander there. Their previous night together was dangerous enough, but thinking about her, dwelling on such a disrespected wizarding family member—it was fatal.

Raising a pale hand, Draco knocked on the beveled, cherry-wood door.

"Come in," a sickeningly sweet voice rang out like a small bird, chiming the hour.

Pushing the large door open, Draco stepped into the room positively glowing from the combined light the dozen candles. Immediately Draco was overwhelmed by the intense scent of lavender coming from the floating lights. 

"Oh Draco honey!" A woman's airy voice called from one of the lounge chairs apolstered with fine gold material. 

Draco's eyes fell on the elegant woman sprawled in the chaise as delicate as a feather. Her silver hair lay calmly over one shoulder, but covered little of her thin white dressing gown. Wide child-like blue eyes smiled at Draco as if she had just been presented with a new toy and found it utterly curious. Observing her, Draco thought she looked very much like a spring white lily, opening to greet the sun for the first time after many seasons of staying closed.

"You're finally home my son," the flower spoke, rising from her bed of comfort and gliding over to place slender arms around her son's neck. 

Draco felt his mother's hand slide over the base of his neck and, reactively, the woman tensed in his arms.

"Wh-what is this Draco?" Narcissa Malfoy asked, withdrawing her arms and inspecting her reddened fingers.

"A welcome home present," Draco grunted, surprised the woman even asked. She did not reply, but silently walked to the wash basin on her nightstand and cleaned her dirtied hands. 

"Your father told me about that nasty fight you had with Harry Potter," Narcissa said, staring at the basin as if it would speak at any moment. 

"Did he?" Draco said, not really expecting a response.

"I don't blame you," Narcissa said suddenly, after several minutes of silent contemplation, "for fighting with that boy. I know it was not your fault." She placed the towel she had been using to dry her manicured hands on the nightstand and turned to face her only son. Narcissa's well-featured face was tight and strong as she said, "his kind do not understand our kind. We're practically another race, a superior race. We should not mix with the likes of him. He doesn't understand our kind," she said again with an even, reassured tone, as if she were reciting a prominent Shakespearean monologue. 

Draco's steely eyes searched his mother's puerile face. "You're right mother, we shouldn't mix with his kind," he said finally, before turning and walking towards the door. "If there's nothing else, I'd like to unpack and get as settled as I can, before…" Draco trailed off.

"Of course darling," Narcissa said, snapping back into her gentile, well bred, sickening tone. "You had better get ready for this evening."

Draco nodded and turned to leave once more. 

"Draco?" Narcissa called before he could escape. Draco turned and stared intently at his mother, waiting. "Happy birthday son."

Without a word, Draco disappeared out his mother's chambers and walked the familiar path to his own room. 


	14. Futures and Letters

Hey everyone. Once again, sorry for not updating. I've not been able to get around to doing much writing for the last two months or so as I started a new job and a new semester.  
  
Thanks to all those that are still reading this and checking back faithfully for updates. I'm rereading a bunch of my fic in order to get back in the groove, so have patience with me.  
  
Chapter 14: Futures and Letters  
  
Dining with the Malfoy's—something Draco had hoped to avoid during his two- week stay, though he knew better. Always filled with the same meaningless conversation, dinnertime seemed to stretch for eons. In fact, Draco was quite certain time actually stopped the minute his father picked up his fork. God was playing a cruel game, he had to be. Nothing else in the Malfoy home seemed more laborious then eating with the "family"—usually the simplest of tasks.  
  
His mother would chat about absolutely nothing, far from caring if anyone was listening. She would have talked to the very wall in front of her if she thought it had the slightest ear for gossip.  
  
"Draco, you're hunching," came his mother's familiar chide. Draco stiffened his back and glanced over to see Narcissa's smile of approval as he fixed his posture. "Oh, Lucius dear, I forgot to mention this earlier, but we received an invitation for tea at the Parkinson's for this Friday afternoon."  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow and looked up from his filet mignon; he knew what was coming.  
  
"Adoria mentioned that Pansy would be joining us as well," she added, taking a sip from her wineglass as if her head wasn't spinning in anticipation. "You know Pansy, don't you sweetheart?" she asked innocently, as if Pansy and Draco were new friends... as if his mother and father hadn't been planning their marriage since the day the two were born.  
  
Rolling his eyes (and silently thanking whatever God possessed Lucius to buy the incredibly long table so his parents could see his expressive face), Draco grunted and took a large bite of his meat, hoping his mother would not question him until his mouth was completely empty. By then Draco hoped to excuse himself and run to his bedroom to escape another interrogation. But his mother was beyond caring for etiquette and she continued.  
  
"Such a lovely girl, that Pansy Parkinson. You know, her family is one of the most prominent in the entire wizarding community, next to ours, of course. They have always..."  
  
Draco could recite his mother's speech word-for-word. She would begin with the Parkinson's in depth history of loyalty to the Dark Lord. Then she'd continue with how the Parkinson's were instrumental in founding the Slytherin house. Narcissa would then conveniently mention how the Parkinson's had a very large estate and an even larger fortune—something that would appeal to any sane man's appetite. The oration always concluded with, "just think about the future you could have with Pansy, think of the future of the wizarding world if the Parkinson's and Malfoy's united."  
  
By then Narcissa was always so worked up in one final dramatic gesture, she beckoned the house elves to retrieve her smelling salts lest she faint in her bowl of soup. The house elves learned (after several beatings) to keep the restorative salts at hand whenever Draco came home, and to dash to their mistresses' side when properly cued. This time was not any different, Narcissa rapidly fanned her face with her hand and Lucius pretended to be concerned while sneaking glances at his newspaper, as the house elves rushed over with the bottle.  
  
Draco took a drink from his glass and smirked slightly at the show before him. It gets more dramatic every visit, Draco thought to himself as he slouched in the straight back chair, taking the opportunity to do so now that his mother's attentions were otherwise engaged.  
  
Somehow, between his mother's fake groans and his father's attention on the Daily Prophet, Draco managed to sneak off to his bedroom. He had no desire to put up with his parent's antics, there were more pressing matters on his mind.  
  
Draco sat down at his writing desk, filled his quill with ink, and pulled out a stack of clean parchment. He stared at the quill hovering over the paper, as if it might be able to write the words Draco could not. Finally, his hand moved.  
  
Ms. Weasley,  
  
It scribbled in the characteristically elegant and loopy Malfoy scrawl. Draco shook his head and crumpled up the parchment in his fist.  
  
"Ms. Weasley? What I'm thinking?" He said allowed, throwing the wad of parchment into the nearby trashcan. "I'm not a bill collector for heaven's sake."  
  
His hand tried again.  
  
Dear Ginny,  
  
He crumpled it again and this time, flung the paper across the room with a scowl. "We had sex, yes, but we're still enemies..." Draco ran an agitated hand through his hair. His blonde locks were beginning to separate into five precise rows through which Draco's fingers plowed when he was frustrated. And that was often.  
  
Ginny,  
  
His hand tried one last time on the third piece of parchment. Draco looked at it. It was simple, but proved the most satisfactory.  
  
Last night was  
  
"amazing" was his first thought. Images of their heated romp floated through his brain and Draco had a hard time controlling himself. Taking virgins was always the most pleasurable. A cold shower would probably be needed later, especially since there were no naive Hogwart's girls here to satisfy him. It would be a long two weeks.  
  
a mistake.  
  
Draco's hand had written the truth; the thing that needed to be said. But she deserved to know more, to be given an explanation as to why his future could never include a girl from her level in society. But Ginny also needed to know that there was something different about her, something that made this letter particularly grueling. Draco shook his head slowly, letting pieces of his perfectly coiffed hair fall over his eyes. As much as Ginny Weasley deserved to know Draco's deepest feelings and thoughts on the matter, he could not bring himself to put it down on paper. It would mean acknowledging that there were feelings, other than pure hatred, about her in the first place, and Draco was incapable of doing that.  
  
-Draco Malfoy  
  
With that, Draco set his quill down and rolled the parchment up, sealing it with the emerald Malfoy crest. He stepped quickly to the windowsill where his eagle owl rested and tied the parchment roll on the bird's thick and obedient leg.  
  
"Fly high," Draco instructed, whispering to the bird uneasily. "You cannot let this fall into unwelcome hands."  
  
The sleek bird squawked its comprehension and shot off the ledge, soaring high into the clouds and disappearing instantly. Draco turned and surveyed his room, making sure it was still empty. He could take no chances, no one could know he had written to Ginny Weasley. The message was short and cryptic, but any involvement with the red-haired girl would be questioned and only meant trouble. For once in his short but full life, Draco Malfoy had to play it safe. 


	15. Dreaming and Reality

I'm going to attempt to write back to each of you that has reviewed my ff since chapter 13. Here I go:  
  
Dela- I know, I hate when ffs make Draco all mushy and angelic. There is NOTHING angelic about this kid. Any intelligent person could pick up on that when reading the books. There are things that may be less evil then other things, but he's not a "good guy."  
  
Loving- I agree! I hate it that Harry ALWAYS has the better come backs, is ALWAYS better at everything just because he's the hero. I thought it was high time he got a whooping. Glad you agree with me.  
  
Alice28- Thanks! Though I think my fic is far from perfect, I will accept the compliment anyway!  
  
Calla-ForEvEa- Glad you like it! I'll keep writing as much as I can as fast as I can!  
  
*:) * - Draco and "saintly" so do not match. That's definitely not a bad thing as "bad boys" are so much more fun to write about.  
  
ChaoticSlytherin- I'm not actually sure I know what you meant by your comment so I'll just smile and nod.  
  
Kayumanggi- As you can tell by this chapter, you're going to have to wait a bit for Ginny's reaction. Sorry, lol. Glad you are still reading this ff of mine. I know Draco can be a bit frustrating, but he's a Malfoy... feelings are a bit difficult, especially when they pertain to certain lower class witches. Anyhow, I hate when ffs have Draco like automatically love Ginny. I think it's more of a lust/obsession thing, that turns into a gnawing to be around that person... as you can tell.  
  
XxDrAcOs-XO-AnGeLxX143- That IS a rather funny picture when you think about it. For some reason I can really see Draco saying something like that. Glad you liked it!  
  
Well, I don't really have anything else to say, so on with the story.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ Chapter 15: Dreaming and Reality  
  
There will be no sleep tonight, he thought, settling himself on the edge of his canopied bed. Draco had gotten little sleep the night before, the night when Ginny came to him, but his thoughts were determined to keep his body from fulfilling what it desperately wanted.  
  
Looking at his pocket watch, Draco swung his feet onto the bed and leant against the head board, fully clothed. Today Draco was 18 years old. He was no longer considered a child in most cultures, though Draco never personally believed age had much to do with obtaining such a title. He sighed, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his collared shirt, his mother's rules of dress did not apply in Draco's room.  
  
Without thinking, Draco glanced at his pocket watch again, growling in frustration and placing his watch face down on the nightstand, refusing to look at it again. He could not sit here and wait for his father to come for him, it would drive him mad. It was the not knowing that made waiting so difficult. Tonight Draco would receive the Mark. He'd become a Death Eater. He'd vow to serve the Dark Lord. He'd turn his life over to darkness. But how?  
  
Goyle, who turned 18 at the beginning of the school year, said it was a gruesome ceremony beginning with an agonizing test of endurance and ending with a final test of loyalty. But then, Goyle was not the most reliable source. On the other hand, Death Eaters were not known for their good- naturedness.  
  
Draco shuddered, it would be painful. Goyle had difficulty forming a coherent sentence, and sometimes Crabbe would need to translate Goyle's garbled ramblings, but Draco knew he hadn't exaggerated.  
  
Though his mind was racing, sleep overcame Draco as if the very air had been suddenly saturated with one of Professor Snape's sleeping powders. His eyelids closed instantly and Draco did not struggle against them, he welcomed the end of that day. But soon his brain was spinning once again, for it was not ready to be silent.  
  
It was as if a silent mist had fogged Draco's vision only to vanish without a trace, having transported Draco to an entirely new location. Draco immediately recognized the Malfoy Manor dining hall. Nothing had changed. The stale air still had the familiar hint of upper class, and for a second Draco assumed he had simply dozed off during dinner.  
  
His blurry, sleep ridden eyes finally focused on a woman at the other end of the table, sipping tea with her well-bred pinky finger pointed just so.  
  
"You're slouching," the woman chastised. Draco straightened up out of habit, but the hard brown eyes of the woman did not even glance his way. Draco's gaze traveled to his left where a platinum-haired boy sat with the same stiffened frame and quiet demeanor. It was as if Draco was looking at photo of himself at a younger age or perhaps even a well-brewed Polyjuice clone.  
  
"As I was saying darling, the Head Master said they're considering Dag for early enrollment."  
  
Draco's eyes shot over to look at the woman that appeared to be addressing him. He studied her expression and her face with a vague sense of recognition. His steely eyes took in the woman's familiar brown hair, now slightly lightened with age, and her matured face with the small, unwanted wrinkles magic has a difficult time hiding.  
  
"All I had to do was casually mention you'd prefer it and the Board signed the consent," the woman said, straining and percing her lips to hold back a squeal of delight.  
  
Draco blinked, lips parted slightly in unfeigned surprise. How could this be so real?  
  
"Darling?" The woman called as Draco continued to gape at her, his searching eyes trying to decipher her identity. "Darling?" She added, more impatient.  
  
Coughing, Draco managed to find his voice. "Yes," he choked out, feeling slightly foolish for having answered a figment of his imagination.  
  
Someone was playing a cruel trick on him, it had to be that. One of his Slytherin friends had sent him a dreaming charm to mock him for being sent away—Crabbe or Goyle, maybe. Even more likely, it was the result of one of their endless potion blunders, Draco thought to himself.  
  
The woman seemed satisfied with his simple response, as if his indifferent tone was not only customary, but expected. Despite the burgeoning nausea in the pit of his stomach, Draco pulled himself shakily to his feet and propelled himself forward, to the other end of the table where the woman ate.  
  
Feelings of familiarity screamed in Draco's head, but his mind was plugged as if somehow had blocked his synapses from making the necessary connection that would solve this bizarre riddle. Everything seemed so long ago as Draco stepped closer to the woman, as if he hadn't really been a teenager only moments before. It was as if he had aged simply by falling asleep.  
  
Draco took his steps more quickly with a sense of urgency. The woman would know what was going on. She would be able to explain it all. He just had to make it to her and everything would make sense. Yet as his pace quickened, the woman only looked farther and farther away.  
  
"I have a question," Draco called lamely. But the woman continued to sip delicately at her tea, oblivious to Draco's plea.  
  
Draco began to run, but the table seemed to stretch and the woman was now a dot in the distance. Even the child was a faint silhouette that seemed miles away, sitting withdrawn across the massive table. Suddenly, Draco's right foot caught on an invisible wedge and his body was thrown forward, landing roughly against a jagged surface.  
  
The power of the fall caused Draco's eyes to shoot open, unsure of whether it was all part of the fanciful dream. Impenetrable darkness invaded his eyes and Draco blinked several times, to make sure his eyes were indeed open. He felt around, blindly groping in the darkness for something to reassure him he hadn't been sucked in a black hole. Draco's eyes widened as his hands fumbled over what felt like cool grass and pebbles, obviously the cause of the numb feeling in his lower back.  
  
As his hands crept along the ground farther, Draco's fist closed around what felt like the hem of a cloak. Suddenly Draco felt several massive hands pull and grab at his arms and legs, heaving him upward and carrying him deeper through the darkness. The dream had ended, and now all Draco was left with was the reality of turning 18. 


	16. The Dark Lord

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. It took me a while to write because I was having a hard time putting down what was in my head, if that makes sense. I had hoped to do the whole test/Dark Mark thing all in one chapter, but then it started getting rather long. Guess you'll just have to convince me to write more...hmmm... wonder how you could do that? Haha, enjoy!  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Chapter 16: The Dark Lord  
  
Draco could not tell how long he was carried with the strong fingers of Death Eaters digging into his flesh silently demanding obedience. There was no use complaining or bothering to ask questions, and he did his best to remain motionless.  
  
In the distance Draco could see two flickering lights, brightening with each step the group rhythmically took. Draco made the mistake of craning his neck once to get a better look, and was quickly struck on the forehead with a large fist. "Keep still," a deep voice hissed.  
  
Immediately Draco lay flat staring up at the starless sky, though his muscles continued to contract against his will in anxiety. As he was carried closer, more and more lights appeared until Draco found himself encircled by three dozen torches all casting an eerie glow upon the cloaked and faceless wizards holding them.  
  
Unmoving, Draco stared intently at the group carrying him, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness. Just as Draco was making out the outline of a face underneath one of the hoods, the hands holding him horizontal released him, causing Draco to fall for the second time on the hard, winter frozen ground.  
  
Had the dark wizards been mere Hogwart's students, they would not have lived up to this point. Draco would have hexed them before their disgusting hands could wrinkle his robes. But this was different and Draco knew it. This was not his time to dominate. He cringed.  
  
Cautiously he pulled himself to his knees, and then to his feet, watching as his former captors retreated to take position in the wide circle of stone-like Death Eaters. A chill wind howled though the open field, the bare trees doing little to shelter him.  
  
Draco's hand moved to button the last button on his thing dress shirt, but his hand stilled and his breath caught in his throat, his lungs stifled. His senses heightened and even the flames on the torches seemed to leap a little higher. A soft crackle in the distance announced a new arrival and a cluster of Death Eaters broke formation to create a wide opening in the circle.  
  
Squinting, Draco saw two Death Eaters enter unmasked. Immediately Draco recognized his father's brilliant white hair, illuminated by the glow of the torch-light. His father made no sign of recognition, and Draco was hardly surprised when he too took his place in the circle refusing to meet Draco's gaze. Two more Death Eaters Draco recognized from "social gatherings" the Malfoy Manor followed. The two parted to form rank, revealing a figure cloaked in the blackest of materials. In fact, Draco had to squint to make sure the person was truly there.  
  
This one, Draco knew was different then any of the others. The dark figure glided forward towards Draco as if using a Hover Charm to propel himself. Draco stared unblinking at the form covered in the yards of black fabric, clenching his fists at his sides determined to hide the quivering sensation building within.  
  
His entire life Draco had been told the stories of the Dark Lord, of his murders and his cruelty, his magnificence and his brilliance. He shivered in anticipation as the figure loomed closer, his presence stifling the very air.  
  
The cloaked form stopped several feet before Draco and raised two hands to his hood. Draco held his breath as the hands pulled back the hood. A sigh of relief almost escaped his mouth as before him stood a very ordinary looking young man. This could not be the powerful Dark Lord Voldemort, the wizard with the power to match Dumbledore's. The corner of Draco's mouth moved to twitch, to mock this boy scarcely older than himself.  
  
"Crucio!" the boy suddenly yelled without a wand, his eyes beginning to glow an abnormally fierce red as the spell left his lips. Draco crumbled to his knees instantly as a wave of relentless pain coursed through his body, traveling through every vein with wrath. "You dare to question me!" the Dark Lord raged at Draco's body, wriggling uncontrollably at his feet.  
  
A haze began to swirl across Draco's stinging eyes and he knew unconsciousness was near as the blinding pain continued. As his body became rigid and his eyes began to close, slowly slipping him into the painless world of the unconscious, the spell was released, leaving no trace of its existence aside from the broken teenager on the ground.  
  
"Get up, boy, and address your Lord properly," he heard his father's voice hiss through the night's air, his tone laced with its familiar disappointment.  
  
"Now, now Lucius," the Dark Lord said calmly, as if he had not been equally enraged moment earlier, "do not blame your son for YOUR mistake. If you had prepared him properly, he would have recognized his Lord. Now unfortunately for him, he has learned the true meaning of the phrase, "appearances can be deceiving.""  
  
Draco's muscles and bones screamed at him to lie still after such exhaustive torment, but Draco's brain knew better. Biting his lip, Draco mustered his remaining strength and raised himself to his feet, once again determined to hide his fatigue.  
  
"He has strength Lucius," the Dark Lord observed, his face remaining stone- like but his eyes betraying his interest, "but he is impulsive and stiff- necked, much like his father."  
  
Draco would have laughed out loud how he found situation permissible. What delicious payback.  
  
The Dark Lord began to slowly walk around Draco, as if he were examining a stock horse at a local auction. As the Dark Lord surveyed him, Draco was seized by the feeling that the he was not just analyzing his physique, but was poking around in his mind. Draco clenched his clammy fists—there were thoughts and ideas inside his head no one could know about.  
  
Like a shadow slipping through the night, the Dark Lord was once again in front of Draco, this time mere inches away. He raised a hand to Draco's face, caressing his cheek with an icy hand that rivaled the winter air.  
  
"What is it you don't want me to know, Draco?" the Dark Lord whispered, locking eyes with the younger wizard. "What is it you are trying so desperately to block from my knowing eyes?"  
  
The Dark Lord held Draco's gaze for minutes in complete silence as Draco labored to shut his prying mind out. His surrounding turned hazy and Draco's body went numb as the Dark Lord probed his head, searching and prodding. Just when the torture seemed to be an eternal condemnation, a small smirk passed over the Dark Lord's mouth and he dropped his hand from Draco's cheek, releasing the mental hold. The Dark Lord, for the moment seemed satisfied and turned back, gliding to the other end of the circle.  
  
Draco's shoulders slumped forward and his lungs expanded rapidly as if he'd been slowly strangled.  
  
"You may keep your secrets for now, Draco Malfoy," the Dark Lord said almost amusedly as he walked towards the two Death Eaters that entered the circle before him, immediately beginning to speak in inaudible tones upon reaching them.  
  
After three Death Eaters disappeared out of the circle upon the Dark Lord's whispered command, Voldemort turned with a red gleam in his eye. "Draco Malfoy, before you are inducted into our organization, you must prove your loyalty."  
  
Draco's head began to spin. He'd been warned by Crabbe and Goyle of painfulness of the induction. What would he be asked to endure? Setting his jaw, Draco stared at the opening in the circle, ready for whatever would pass through.  
  
"If you are to join us, the first thing you must realize is that we are in the middle of a war, and all those who stand in the way need to be eliminated," the Dark Lord said, speaking as any commander of an army would before marching towards a battlefield of death and destruction. "Draw your weapon, Draco."  
  
For an instant, Draco's face fell in nervousness, afraid he had not managed to bring his wand. Yet as the very thought entered his head, he felt the significant weight of is wand in his trousers pocket and immediately withdrew it.  
  
This was to be his induction, his test of loyalty. To show that he would spill blood for the Dark Lord. This kill would be his first, despite the rumors at Hogwarts, the first kill of many Draco was sure. He could shrieks coming from what Draco thought was the voice of some poor unfortunate muggle who happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. Draco could hear her uneven voice and her torrents of sobs and pleadings.  
  
He licked his chapped lips against the chill wind and raised his wand as the Death Eaters dragged in the form of a young girl, still in her pajamas. Her hair was matted from her salty tears and hanging over her face. It would be better that way, Draco thought. He wouldn't actually have to see who he killed.  
  
The Death Eaters hauled her into the circle, close enough to Draco so that he could see the visible bruises on her arms and the tears in her flimsy pajamas. She fell in a heap to the hard ground, her face buried in her arms as she sobbed. At some point during this whole ordeal Draco had managed to form a lump in his throat, and he took the opportunity to swallow it now.  
  
His mouth opened, wand trained on the quivering girl, ready to say those two fateful words.  
  
"Please..." the terrified voice of the girl came out through her choked sobs.  
  
"I present you with your initiation task, Malfoy. Kill the whore!" the Dark Lord laughed cruelly, scattered chuckles breaking out across the circle in response.  
  
Draco sneered, how could the Dark Lord think finishing off a muggle wench would be difficult.  
  
"Please...Draco..." the girl said, making Draco's wand lower several inches instinctively. Slowly the girl raised her tearstained face, looking up at Draco with swollen eyes.  
  
"Ginny...?" Draco whispered in unbelief. Draco was now caught in the middle of a nightmarish reality without any hope of waking up. 


	17. Choices

Howdy everyone. I'm terribly sorry I haven't updated in so long. I was living in Scotland, now I'm back, I've been working, I'm taking classes... really, there just hasn't been much time. But this lovely long chapter should make up for it.  
  
I'd like to say something before you read this chapter... now, I've had the entire story line mapped out since before I started writing this. Whatever happens in this chapter or in any future chapters will be altered because of anyone's comments. So you can scream, cry, kick, and yell—I will listen—but nothing will be changed from the original plot. On that happy note, here is the chapter!  
  
Chapter 17: Choices  
  
A wave of questions washed through his head, numbing his senses: what was she doing here? How had she gotten here? And more importantly, what was he supposed to do now?  
  
His eyes slowly raised to see the Dark Lord's face visibly darken with wicked glee as he realized this girl has struck a soft spot with Draco.  
  
"Draco...I'll do anything." Ginny's tearful plea brought his gaze back to her, the red headed mess kneeling on the ground in front of him  
  
"Ohhh, the muggle-loving wench is begging! We love it when they beg..." the Dark Lord joked viciously, a chorus of laughter sounding out around the circle of hooded minions.  
  
Draco's eyes darted around, looking helplessly at the faces of the Death Eaters blurred by his own confusion. Ginny trembled on her bruised knees, the chill wind and her unknown future working together to create this waking land of torment, and Draco found himself wishing he could stoop to the ground and shield her. But he remained motionless.  
  
Above the buzzing of his brain, Draco heard the impatient voice of his father. "What are you waiting for, Draco? Dispose of the girl."  
  
Draco swallowed, his dry and scratchy throat burning as the moisture of his saliva slid down. He watched as Ginny's small hands clung to the ground for physical support and Draco was reminded of how they had similarly clung to his naked back as he took her virginity just the night before.  
  
"She's just another girl, Draco. A muggle-loving wench!" His father's voice yelled out once again, though more forceful than before.  
  
His father was right. Ginny Weasley was his enemy. She had always been his enemy and Draco was a fool to have gotten so close. It had all been a game...at first. But somehow it had changed. Barriers had not only been crossed, but barriers had been broken. Draco's life had always been meant for one course and he'd be damned before he let Ginny Weasley change that.  
  
Raising his wand shakily and setting his jaw, hate for the girl coursed through Draco's every vein. He would not allow Ginny to do this to him, to change everything.  
  
Ginny's eyes widened as the curse left Draco's lips and the green ball of death fired toward her. Draco's wand slipped from his clammy fingers as he watched Ginny's body fly backwards, land a few feet from where she was kneeling, and crumple to the ground in a heap, her red hair covering her fear frozen face like a curtain.  
  
Draco stared at her lifeless body, too shocked to feel anything. A cruel laughter filled the air and teetering on shaky legs, Draco turned to face the Dark Lord's visibly humoured face.  
  
Hours later, Draco sat on his bed, his back against the head bored, trying to tell his brain to stop playing the events over and over.  
  
"I think we were all a little surprised with that," Draco had heard the Dark Lord announce, though at the time Draco had been too stunned to know or care what any of that meant.  
  
Draco's legs drew up instinctively towards his body, and with folded arms, he buried his face against them, as his brain recounted every horrifying moment. Upon the Dark Lord's gesture, Draco had stepped forward as Lucius prepared his wand for the Dark Mark.  
  
He had lowered himself to the ground at Lucius' feet, and looked up long enough to acknowledge Lucius' face of fury that Draco could not understand. Automatically Draco had rolled up the sleeve of his left arm and displayed the clean untouched flesh of his forearm. He did not have to be told where the Mark was to go. He'd seen it every day of his life; it was like having a perfect older sibling whose greatness you could never achieve.  
  
Lucius had raised his wand and touched it against Draco's icy skin, muttering dark words only used for occasions such as these. Immediately Lucius' wand became hot to Draco's skin until heat flooded Draco's body, simultaneously coating his body with a layer of cold sweat. He had looked at his skin bubbling and melting from the branding curse, knowing it should hurt and he even remembered wishing it would. But he had been too numb from the kill.  
  
Slowly the Mark had begun to appear under the crackling and smoldering of Draco's forearm. Draco's head had hung low, his eyes blank until his father had removed his wand. "I have a feeling our newest member will do great things," the Dark Lord had prophesied amid the murmurings in awe of Draco's pain tolerance.  
  
Draco squinted his eyes shut, praying under his breath that this would be the last time he'd have to relive those moments again. His shirt clung to him again from the fresh perspiration that accompanied the memory, and he took it off, welcoming the idea of getting rid of the soiled and bloodied garment.  
  
Settling back on his bed, Draco's eyes became fixed on the new black marking on his forearm still pulsating from the heat of the incantation. He had always worn the dark mark, Draco thought. It had been etched in his soul long before this night when it was finally just manifested physically. Even if he didn't like the thought, Draco had carried the mark with him since he was conceived and Ginny Weasley hadn't change that.  
  
He slid further down his bed until his head reached the pillow, determined to sleep now that the sun was starting to rise. Yet even after the travails of the night and the comfort he now found in his bed, Draco was wracked with guilt he never expected to feel. He couldn't fall asleep.  
  
Now that you all thoroughly hate me, I will respond to comments.  
  
Mell8: Glad you liked it.  
  
Jeru: I'm glad you didn't REALLY kill me. If you did, there'd be no more story. ;)  
  
Bladefanatic: Yeah, the whole Harry getting beaten up by Draco scene wasn't extremely popular. I know Harry is the hero, but he's not perfect, and that's what I attempted to show. He isn't virtuous ALL the time, and sometimes, the "bad guy" can be surprisingly good, comparatively speaking of course. I actually really like Harry as a character...  
  
ChaoticSlytherin: hahahaha.  
  
LovesFantasy: Hooray, a fellow starving student! Thank you so much for your comment. I really try to keep Draco in character, which is sometimes a struggle. Often I try and write him a different way (for example, I'll try and make him happier or nicer, etc.) but he just REFUSES to be that way. I tell ya', has a mind of his own, this one.  
  
Kaiyu Onibaba: Sorry it took so long to update. I'm cruel, I know. Wahahaha.  
  
Anon: I AM under-reviewed! You are right! Thank you for calling me an exceptional writer, I really appreciate it. I'm also very happy you didn't flame my story and that you have no complaints, that's awesome. I never know what to do with flamers... I've only had one, and I didn't listen to her because she actually didn't even read the story. Haha  
  
Pantspie: Thank you so much! I have such a hard time reading the books or seeing the movies because Draco is so much more to me now. I keep mixing up things that I've written about with the plot of the book, that's how bad it is. And I actually find myself getting annoyed when he isn't mentioned more, even though I've always known he was a secondary character. In my perfect world, he'd have his own series. Yeah, I'm one of those scary obsessed fans JK Rowling is concerned about when she visits America. haha 


	18. Life In Between

I would like to first apologize for the fact that my comments are not separated from the chapters. I keep putting in 's and things to separate them, but somehow they disappear. So, sorry. I hope you all enjoy this chapter—it's 4 pages of great fun. I hope it is long enough to satisfy you all for now. Not much else to really say, but thanks for the reviews.

(-) MUST SEPARATE (-) MUST SEPARATE (-)

Chapter 18: Life in Between

The next week and a half went torturously slow in the Malfoy Manor. Phantom Ginny's slipped in and out of his dreams every night and Draco spent as much time as he possibly could locked away in his room, living life in between. The idea of company made him nauseous. And despite his bad mood and unusual silence, it did not stop Narcissa from checking up on him every few hours.

She'd pop in every so often to announce that she was off to have tea with a friend, that she was back from having tea with a friend, that she was just going to be in the library to do some reading, or that she'd just be across the hall in her bedroom should he need anything. Narcissa would linger at the doorway each time, waiting for Draco to do more than nod. But he was silent, and after a minute Draco would hear the soft click of the door that told him he was alone again.

As much as Draco despised Narcissa's incessant visits, he would gladly tolerate them if it meant he did not have to return to Hogwarts. Ginny Weasley's brutal murder was splattered across every wizarding paper in Britain for all he knew (Draco couldn't bring himself to check). How could he go back as if it he hadn't been the one? How could he face his classmates with such guilt? How would he be able to keep suspicion away from him? Weasley had always had it in for Draco in the first place. Surely he'd convict Draco instantly.

And what would he say? How could he possibly lie convincingly when the picture of Ginny's face in frozen terror haunted him, reminding him of what he did?

The scenario of the inevitable confrontation with Weasley played over and over in Draco's mind as he dressed silently. Narcissa's familiar faint knock woke Draco out of his reverie as he was slipping a t-shirt on over his head.

"Come," he called, wondering what new reason Narcissa could have thought of in the last 20 minutes to interrupt him again.

Narcissa swept inside, smiling gaily in deep purple robes with fur trim. "Draco, I wanted you to know that I..." she began, closing the door behind her. "Oh darling, you're not planning on wearing THAT to the Parkinson's, are you? Certainly you have something more suitable for tea!"

Immediately she crossed over to Draco's armoire and began pulling out various ties and shirt, slacks and vests, laying them out on Draco's four-poster.

"The Parkinson's?" Draco questioned, sincerely hoping his mother was joking.

"Well yes dear, tea at the Parkinson's. It's been arranged for weeks," she added, as if that settled the matter. "Pansy managed to get permission to come home for the weekend to visit. You remember Pansy, darling. I mentioned to Adoria you'd be home as well and we knew you kids would want to get together," she trilled, holding a set of ties in her hand and matching them to the various colored shirts strewn across the bed.

"Mother, I don't want to go for tea," Draco said tonelessly, a wave of nausea already beginning to pass through him.

"Nonsense Draco," his mother said, brushing aside his comment with a wave of her hand. "Here, wear these," she said, holding out a white collared shirt, green sweater and dark gray pair of slacks. "You look just like your father in your Slytherin green," she said, obviously pleased with the idea of a miniature Lucius.

Draco cringed at the thought. Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, he finally took the clothes from her, resigned to the fact that he'd be spending the rest of his afternoon sipping tea and listening to Mrs. Parkinson and his mother inadvertently planning his and Pansy's wedding.

Narcissa positively beamed at him, as if Draco had just informed her that he and Pansy were having triplets. "We'll leave in 15 minutes," she called as she disappeared out of the room.

After waiting for the familiar click, Draco began to redress.

(-) LATER (-)

The Parkinson Manor lay in the middle of flat and open countryside, oddly unprotected by concealing charms. The Parkinsons liked people to gawk at the manor's grandness—muggle or wizard, it didn't matter.

Though it was not as vast as the Malfoy's, the Parkinson manor was breathtaking nonetheless and definitely worth notice—acres upon acres of formal gardens surrounding, large bay windows covering the front, gargoyles perched along the two symmetrical Gothic towers, and an intricate stone fountain in the courtyard that ran only when the family was home.

One could not truly appreciate the Parkinson Manor, however, until they had stepped inside—a luxury few outside of the immediate family enjoyed. The Manor had an elegant ballroom, four different sets of staircases, several massive crystal chandeliers in every room, an entry way adorned in maroon velvet curtains and gold gilded furniture, seventeen bedrooms all with their own adjoined bathrooms, thirty-nine rooms all together (only 7 less than the Malfoy Manor), and twenty stone and marble fireplaces.

It was the large white marble fireplace in the entryway that Draco stepped out of (without having to bend down) later that afternoon when he was to have tea with Pansy and her mother.

"Good afternoon Master Malfoy," a scrawny house-elf squeaked up at him with large terrified eyes, "and Mistress Malfoy," he added quickly when Narcissa stepped out of the fireplace as well. "I will takes you to the mistress nows, sir and madame."

The elf bowed until his crooked nose touched the floor and then quickly turned, propelling his body forward on stubby legs. Draco began to follow through the various rooms and tried not to snap when his mother started straightening his collar and dusting off his cloak as they walked.

"Draco, will you hold on for two seconds altogether?" Narcissa asked, agitation lacing her voice. Draco stopped and turned towards her, rolling his eyes and looking away as Narcissa began fiddling with his hair. "There now," she cooed, looking pleased once again.

Draco didn't know why he let his mother do this to him. After all, he wasn't interested in Pansy Parkinson in the least. But indulging his mother meant he would be spared the wrath of his father, in this regard at least. Draco subconsciously rubbed the back of his head where there was still the trace of a bump from Lucius' cane. Tea would be worth it, he thought.

Narcissa gave him the customary nod and Draco turned again, entering the sitting room he knew so well.

"Draco dear," a larger and older version of Pansy called, rising from her straight backed chair. "My how you've grown! It must be, what? Eight months since I've seen you? And so tall and handsome you've become!" she trilled, coming around the table to peck Draco on the cheek as a mother would.

"And you remember Pansy, darling," Narcissa chimed in after she and Adoria exchanged looks during Draco's silence.

Without a glance at Pansy, Draco sat down disregarding the fact that he hadn't been invited to yet—in his mind they were past formalities. "Yes mother, she IS in my house at school," he said, almost having to clap a hand over his mouth to keep his annoyance at bay.

"Oh yes, of course darling," Narcissa said a bit flustered, and she too sat down quickly.

There was an awkward silence as Adoria poured the tea and Narcissa, Draco assumed, re-calculated her strategy.

"Oh Narcissa, I didn't tell you, I bought a new vase the other day. You MUST see it before you leave. You'll never believe where I picked it up. It was this quaint little shop just outside of..." Adoria rambled on as she passed around a plate of biscuits, gushing about her newest find that would undoubtedly sit on the shelf amongst all the other useless junk to be dusted every other day.

Draco shifted in his chair decidedly tuning them out for the sake of his nerves and also to spite his mother for making him come. Cursing silently, Draco shifted again. Why did the Parkinsons buy the most uncomfortable chairs in the world, he was practically sitting on a board. Yes they were the proper tea chairs that any wealthy family would have in their sitting room, but was that so damned important?

All of the chairs in the Malfoy Manor, Draco decided, would be burned if they were not covered in at least a foot of padding and curved in the back for proper support when he became Master of the house. No more unnecessary discomfort, or else what good was it being wealthy?

"Did you know that, Draco?" Adoria's voice interrupted.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Parkinson?" Draco asked, finding he had been slouching considerably while in thought and taking the time to correct his posture.

"I asked if you knew that my Pansy was proficient on the piano?" she said a bit more loudly, as if Draco had suddenly lost his hearing and a raised voice would remedy his new-found handicap.

"I did not know that ma'am," he replied, looking over at Pansy for the first time since he had arrived and finding her calmly looking back at him.

"Ah yes, well, it's just one of her many talents," Adoria replied smugly, stirring her tea noiselessly clockwise.

Draco found himself smirking slightly. I_f you only knew_, he said to himself as he recalled a time during their fifth year when Pansy had hauled him off to a particularly cramped and dark broom closet. Pansy seemed to be thinking along the same lines and they exchanged knowing glances.

(-) MUST SEPARATE (-)

Now it's time for replies to reviews. I'd first like to say thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'd also like to emphasize the importance of reviewing. Even if you only write two words, it's extremely helpful. I know if people are reading this ff by the reviews, and if no one reviews I think no one is reading; therefore, I don't post. Reviews also help me know what I can work on. I plan on doing some major revision once I'm done with this ff, so I mark places that need some work or didn't get a very good response. So it's very simple: review!

Kaiyu Onibaba: Well, there can't be much Ginny/Draco interaction if she's dead, now can there? ;)

Cinder2004: Is your name Cindy, by chance? Mine is, and my family all calls me cinder. Lol Anyhow, sorry to make you cry!

Quidditch3: Do I EVER write happy endings? Lol. I'm not sure how many chapter there will be to tell you the truth. I know what is going to happen, but I'm still working on the layout. I hope this chapter was long enough for you.

Anise aka Anissa: Yay! You came! Excellent review, by the way. I'm so happy you like my ff so much, it makes me feel all warm and good inside. Lol. Hooray for keeping Draco in character, eh? As far as making his world bigger, I really feel that our dear friend Jo just doesn't write enough on my favorite little blonde-boy, no offense to her of course. He really is a complex character, in my opinion. In fact, it's getting so deeply engraved in my mind that this is how Draco is that I have a hard time reading the books now. I'm like, "No, silly Jo, Draco wouldn't do that..." lol. I think I'm getting a bit carried away, what do you think?

Lady Jade: Welcome to the story! Guess you'll just have to wait and see what happens.

Panstipie: haha, well, people have told me that I have guts. Most people make Draco very OOC, and write him as an angel. But really, let's be honest, he may have a soft SPOT... but he's bad, he grew up bad, his family is bad... he's not about to change.

Calla-ForEvEa: I had a lovely time in Scotland, thanks for asking. I miss it very much and can't wait to graduate uni so I can move on to bigger and better things. Lol.


	19. Empty Libraries

Ok, well, hardly anyone sent reviews, but I'm being nice and posting anyway. Enjoy.

(-) MUST SEPARATE (-) MUST SEPARATE (-)

Chapter 19: Empty Libraries

"Say, here's a thought," Mrs. Parkinson said after setting her teacup down with an uncharacteristically loud 'clink', "why don't you show Draco the new piano in the, er...library, Pansy dear. Perhaps you can play for him."  
  
Pansy looked at her mother questioningly, "But mum, we don't have a," and quickly trailed off, apparently thinking better of it. "Right, the, er, new piano," she said in an obviously feigned voice the most unperceptive person in the world would have noticed, "in the...library...".  
  
"Off you go then," Adoria chirped, trying to look as though it was extremely normal to place musical instruments in libraries with her jaw set in a frozen smile and shooing Pansy and Draco away with a wave of her hands.  
  
Draco got to his feet without complaint, almost as anxious to leave the straight backed chairs as much as both their conniving mothers. With a nod he followed Pansy out of the sitting room and down the familiar hallway towards the library.  
  
"So what did your mum expect you to do when we reached the library and found no piano?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow, turning his head slightly when they were far away enough from their mother's listening ears.  
  
"How do you know we don't have a new piano?" Pansy said, shooting him a challenging glance while her upper lip twitched slightly in betrayal.  
  
Draco smirked and let his eyes wander over the various portraits and painting along the hallway before answering. "First, you may very well have a new piano, but I assume one goes to the library for quiet, and wouldn't a piano defeat that purpose? And second, you know our mothers as well as I do. They're no doubt hoping our little jaunt to the library will set us on the path of spawning hundreds of little heirs for our families."

A smile flickered over Pansy's mouth briefly, and she turned around without a word to begin the walk back to the sitting room, Draco doing the same. Pansy had no desire to see Draco's smug face if they were to enter the library and find it full of books, as usual.   
  
For some time now Draco's body had been wracked with the uneasiness, headaches, and stomach knots his interest in Ginny had induced. And since that night...the night when...well, he felt dizzy, sick and restless but tired. It was odd, this situation with Pansy. Draco hadn't spoken that much in several months, and somehow it seemed to come out all too easily with her. Pansy and he were never friends by Draco's standards, and he spent more time avoiding her (except for the occasional one night stand) to spite his family then he spent with her. But now, with only the sound of Pansy's footsteps next to him, reminding him he wasn't alone, Draco felt unexpectedly at ease.  
  
They reached the sitting room doors and Pansy's hand hovered over the slender handle as if afraid there might be something lurking behind it even more heinous than a pair of marriage-craze mothers. "Suppose we just keep walking and let the meddling twins plot a while longer..." she said with a grin, obviously dreading finishing tea as much as Draco was.  
  
Draco nodded with a knowing look and they continued in their stroll, heading in no particular direction.  
  
"My mum said your 18th birthday was last week," Pansy said, raising a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear before letting her arm once again hang loosely at her side.  
  
"It was," Draco said simply, looking straightforward, his hands clasped tightly behind his back in a rigid manor.

"Get anything good?" She smirked. They exchanged glances again.  
  
"Yes, I did," Draco replied, wondering if there was a hidden meaning to her tone—obviously she would have known he'd received the Dark Mark. "A villa in the south of France," he said, decidedly taking her question literal.  
  
"Isn't that a nice little bribe?" Pansy said sounding somewhat astounded and her eyes darting quickly in the direction of Draco's forearm. The Parkinsons were rich, but even they were more reserved in their purchases than the Malfoy's. The Malfoy's were "exuberant," is how most of the wizarding world put it.  
  
Draco did not reply, and again, a thick and surprisingly comfortable silence surrounded them. They spent several minutes strolling along the candle-lit hallways, passing through various rooms, and taking several different flights of stairs, neither one consciously directing their travel. The teens had been walking in such a steady, fluid kind of stream that it was a surprise when Draco and Pansy turned down a narrow, darker hall and found themselves at a dead end with only a door before them.  
  
"Oh," Pansy said quietly, both of them recognizing for the first time where they had ended up so naturally. "I didn't mean for us to..."

"Neither did I," Draco said honestly, surprising even himself, and shifting his gaze to watch the shadows flicker across Pansy's face from the dimly lit candles above.  
  
Pansy stepped forward with hesitance Draco had never seen her display, and slowly brushed her lips against his.  
  
"Why are you always so cold?" she asked quietly, after pulling slightly back so their mouths hovered only centimeters apart.  
  
"I don't know..." Draco answered just as softly, while his eyes moved back and forth across Pansy's face. As if on cue they both leaned back in quickly, their mouths pressing together hungrily while Pansy's arms moved to encircle Draco's neck while his hands moved to the small of her back.  
  
Draco did not wait long before one of his hands began fumbling for the doorknob, pushing on it and moving them inside quickly. With a swift kick, Draco closed the door to Pansy's bedroom, as if to shut out their two mother's making plans below, the dread of going back to Hogwarts, and the constant reminder that he killed Ginny Weasley.

He paced the room slowly, watching as the house elf scurried about, collecting his clothes and books, and packing them neatly into Draco's trunk with a crisp touch only a trained elf could manage.

"Mistress says master must be ready by 3:00. Yes, we must hurry young master," the elf squeaked out in several breathy bursts. Barely registering that the elf even spoke, Draco continued to pace about his childhood room.

It had only been two days since he and Pansy had been together at the Parkinson's Manor and Draco's continuously drifted back to it. After their rather hot affair there hadn't been that uncomfortable silence like there was with Ginny, Draco remarked. Neither of them had felt the need to talk; to fill the room with unnecessary pleasantries.

"Thanks," Draco had said while he zipped up his slacks and Pansy slipped back into her skirt. She didn't respond and Draco knew she understood his somewhat nonchalant comment. It was then Draco had realized that Pansy was not like other girls. She was unique, like Ginny had been, but because of entirely different reasons.

They had finished dressing in silence and had exited the room before Pansy ever spoke. "So will you be paying more attention to me once we get back to Hogwarts, then?" she had said with a mischievous gleam common to her eyes and a sassy, confident tone.

The corner of Draco's mouth had turned up with ease. "After a performance like that? Attention isn't all you'll be getting. Just don't tell our mums. No need to give them the slightest ounce of hope."

If Pansy hadn't been raised well, Draco would have sworn she would have snorted. But she had contained herself and simply nodded.

"Finished young master. I is taking master's trunk downstairs now to wait for master," the house elf said, bowing low so his pillow case covering hung with the weight of gravity off his bony form, before beginning to heave the clearly dominant trunk with his small arms.

Draco gave a small nod and crossed the room to where his cloak lay across the arms of his desk chair. On his way, Draco caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and recognized, once again, the distinct and intricate Dark Mark on his forearm. Immediately he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and began unrolling his sleeves, making a mental note to be more careful in the future. Hogwarts was not a place to display such things. Waving a banner with a picture of a snarling Dark Lord while and jumping up and down at the Ministry of Magic would be comparable to letting the "wrong" kind of person see Draco's new brand.

Slipping his cloak on quickly, Draco left his room and headed for the fireplace that would take him back to Hogwarts. He was going back different—no longer was he a sneering, sniveling boy riding on his father's coat tails. With Ginny's murder, he had proved his strength and valiance. He was a new person—killing had assured that.

"There you are son," Narcissa cooed upon Draco's approached, turning away from Lucius and holding her arm out to invite him for one of her trademark half-embraces.

Draco nodded and stepped forward, letting one hand lightly press against his mother shoulder. To his great surprise, Narcissa's other arm reached up and pulled Draco into a hug—a complete hug—so that Draco's chin was forced to rest on his mother's shoulder. His gaze traveled to his father, silently questioning him, when Narcissa continued to cling to Draco. Lucius' eyes rolled in such an exasperated manner way that Draco was sure he was thinking, "women."

Narcissa must have remembered herself shortly after because she pulled away and began needlessly straightening Draco's cloak. "Yes, well," she said, adverting her eyes. "It has been lovely having you home. Be good at school, darling."

"Yes mum," Draco replied, stepping back, a little flustered from his mother's surprise attack. "Father," he added with a nod.

"Try not to kill Potter again, Draco. Not now at least," Lucius smirked, clapping a hand on his son's back as Draco stepped into the fireplace.

Draco looked at his parents again before muttering, "Hogwarts" and **casting** the emerald powder across the hearth with a snap. Instantly his body reeled and spun into a black tunnel of hundreds of fireplaces rushing by, stopping finally with an intense jolt and no warning.

"Welcome back Mr. Malfoy," a familiar voice said, making Draco open his eyes. Before him stood Albus Dumbledore, looking back at him with strangely tired eyes behind his half-moon spectacles. Draco stepped out of the fireplace, his trunk appearing seconds later, and nodded to the Headmaster.

"I hope you left your family well," Dumbledore said in a way that proved sincerity in his inquiry.

"Yes sir," was Draco's short reply.

"I understand that you had your birthday while at home," the Headmaster began, crossing his office still full of strange gadgets and gesturing for Draco to sit as Dumbledore situated himself at his desk. Annoyed, Draco lowered himself into one of the chairs; suddenly feeling like it was more of an interrogation than a friendly discussion. Draco did not reply. "It was your 18th, was it not?"

Resigned to the fact that he was now obligated to answer, Draco said a simple, "yes."

Dumbledore seemed to be satisfied with Draco's strained answer, no doubt he already knew what his reply would be anyway.

"I'm sure while you were away you heard of the tragedy misfortune that befell one of the students..." the old wizard said with a raised eyebrow, as if this beginning would convince Draco to pour out everything he knew.

"I did not hear, sir," Draco replied tonelessly. He had shut out the world entirely after he killed Ginny—no newspapers, no owls, no conversation. It was not entirely a lie.

Dumbledore paused and nudged his spectacles further up the bridge of his crooked nose. "She disappeared one day after lessons, and her housemates reported it once she did not show up for supper. A day later her body was found by a muggle farmhouse in an empty field. The ministry sent investigators immediately and from what they can tell, they suspect the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters," Dumbledore explained quickly, his tone hiding little his obvious frustration.

"And what does this have to do with me, Headmaster?" Draco asked once he managed to find his voice, and taking a moment to relax his clenched fists he locked eyes with Dumbledore for an instant.

"Your family is so connected with the...ministry, I thought you must have heard something about it. After all, the unfortunate girl's family has worked for the ministry for decades against the Dark Lord and his supporters," the Headmaster replied, breaking the link between their gaze and shuffling through his papers.

Draco suddenly rose to his feet, the situation becoming unbearably uncomfortable. "I'd like to return to my House professor, if that's alright. I have a lot of homework to catch up on." It was then Draco noticed the prints on each of the armrests left from his perspiring hands.

Professor Dumbledore seemed to have noticed the same thing and paused a moment before looking back at Draco. "Of course." Draco turned to leave immediately, shrinking his trunk and picking it up; he could not leave fast enough.

"Draco," Dumbledore called, making him turn hesitantly. "You can come and see me any time you would like—if there's anything you ever want to discuss."

With a nod, Draco turned, pulled open one of the double doors and hurried down the winding staircase.


	20. Alive

Hi everyone. Well, still not too many reviewers, but thank you to the ones that did! You're fabulous. Sorry I haven't been updating too regularly, I've been out of the country a few times, started my last year of uni, and am working two jobs instead of just one like I did last year. Hectic, hectic times. Anyhow, I hope you all have enjoyed the story thus far. This chapter is when everything starts getting really interesting for our dear little Draco. This chapter SHOULD be longer than the other ones, so I hope that makes up for my lack of posts. Please, please, please review and tell all your little and friends to read my story. I need all the feedback I can get, as I will start editing the ff after I'm done. Ok, here we go!

SEPARATING

Chapter 20: Alive

Originally Draco had intended to go straight back to his dorm room, needing to unpack but more so wanting to stay isolated for as long as possible. But he was increasingly disgusted with himself the closer he got to the Slytherin House. What was he doing? Hiding? From who? Weasle, Scar Face and Weasle's mutt? If any of them were smart, THEY would be the one's hiding from HIM. He was not above messing up Potter's face again, and showing the Mudblood and the Weasle a thing or two wouldn't be a challenge as long as he wasn't forced to actually touch them.

Draco shoved his shrunken trunk into his pocket and made a sharp right towards the illuminated Great Hall filled with the sound of student's voices and the clinking of silverware and goblets. Tugging on his tie to make it hang loosely around his neck, Draco stepped calmly into the room. Immediately his eyes drifted over to the infamous three huddled together and whispering—nothing out of the ordinary. Potter looked fully recovered from Draco's assault, which was unfortunate in Draco's mind. He much more preferred seeing Harry bloodied, gasping and clutching his side on the floor.

Suddenly the Mudblood stopped talking, and soon she, Potter, and Weasle were all glaring at him and his blatant audacity. Draco smirked at them and waved patronizingly, making sure to bend each finger individually. Challengingly, Ron rose from the bench and Draco found himself hoping Ron would dare to lunge—then Draco would show him, just like he had shown the youngest Weasley. But almost immediately, Harry's arms reached up to calm his friend.

Draco couldn't resist the opportunity, "Don't use me to get Potter's arms around you Weasle. It's revolting to be your excuse." Gales of laughter filled the air from the Slytherin table and to Draco's delight, Weasle sunk miserably onto the bench. With an added spring in his step, he headed over to his proper position with the rest of the Slytherin, all still snickering and pointing at the dejected Weasley.

"It certainly didn't take you long to get back into the swing of things," Pansy grinned as Draco slid into the spot next to her.

"Mince, again?" Draco said with a frown, observing the assorted pies as if Pansy hadn't even spoken. "Someone should speak to the kitchen help, get the menu moved up a notch. Would a little variety be too much to ask?"

"What are you in such a good mood about?" Pansy persisted, angling herself on the bench to face Draco and effectively raising her skirt higher to Draco's approval.

"I just publicly humiliated Weasle and his scar-faced lover. Why shouldn't I be in a good mood?" Draco asked as if Pansy were clearly missing the point, and resignedly shoveling an assortment of the minced-based food onto his plate.

"Well, I thought perhaps you would want to lay low a while, what with HER disappearance and what everyone is saying about it, not to mention your suspension," she answered, significantly lowering her voice and leaning closer to keep out possible listeners. "Dumbledore has made several speeches while you were away and I just..."

"Oh yes," Draco interrupted unconcernedly, "I got interrogated by the old git earlier."

"You did? W-what did he say? What did YOU say? Merlin, Draco, you don't need any more attention drawn to yourself," Pansy began all at once, looking thoroughly panicked.

"Stop worrying, will you," he said dismissively, not wanting to be bothered by the subject any further and sliding his hand under the table to grip Pansy's upper thigh to make the point. It seemed to induce the intended affect, and Pansy lay silent. This would work out nicely, Draco dreamed. He'd enjoy every meal for the rest of the semester in peace because of a simple caress—the power of a Malfoy's hand. It was a win-win situation, really.

Draco managed to choke down dinner—he had grown accustomed to fine dining during his two-week home-stay—by keeping himself occupied with the various curves of Pansy's leg, and hardly noticed the glances thrown his way by some of the other houses.

"I'm going back to my dorm," he said, finally removing his hand from its position on Pansy's lap, causing her to break out of the quasi-trance.

"Oh," Pansy said, not even attempting to hide her irritation that playtime was over. "Shall I come by later, then?"

Draco tried to shrug in a non-committal way and got to his feet. He didn't want her thinking that just because he enjoyed himself last time he was ready to have an actual relationship. "I'll let you know when I'm done unpacking." Pansy was not overly pleased with his answer, but didn't object. With a nod to a few of the other Slytherins, Draco exited the Great Hall.

It had all gone extremely well. No one had even been discussing Ginny's death, except for the overly concerned Pansy, as far as he could tell. Just like every other piece of gossip, her murder had already blown over. Even Weasley's brother didn't seem put out by the whole affair, which seemed a bit strange now that Draco thought about it. Perhaps Weasle just wasn't terribly emotional. No, that couldn't be it, especially when considering his face grew as red as his hair every time the Mudblood spoke to him. Disgusting. Maybe the Weasle and baby Weaslette didn't have a very good relationship. Draco was no expert on the subject, really, as he was an only child, but it SEEMED they got on. Weasle WAS rather protective and all...the git.

The more Draco continued assessing the situation, the more odd he found it. Ginny had been fairly popular, Draco had thought, but none of her friends looked like they were in mourning. When Pansy got back from dinner, Draco would ask about...

He had been so deep in thought that while ascending the flight of to the dungeons, he had, without noticing, knocked into somebody. "Watch it," he spat before looking up at the figure.

"Me?! You're the one not looking where you're going," the tenacious voice said, making Draco freeze. "What? What are you looking at?"

It could not be her. It was impossible. This was just another one of his dreams, another musing. If he was quiet, it would go away.

"Hello? Earth to Draco?" she said, waving a hand in front of Draco's face before crossing her arms agitatedly over her chest.

"G-Ginny...?" Draco managed to choke out, feeling his jaw hang open but not having enough mental faculty to actually close it.

"Yes, of course it's me... unless you actually assumed I'd shrivel up and die just because you said what we did was a mistake," she said with an icy tone rivaling the glaciers Draco had seen in books. "Well you know what, Draco Malfoy? I whole heartedly agree, it WAS a mistake, so don't worry your pretty little head about it!"

Draco stared at her longer. Any minute now, the raving Ginny would disappear and Draco would wake up in his four-poster. But he didn't remember going to sleep.

"For Merlin's sake Draco, stop gaping at me! If it's possible, you're paler than usual," Ginny said. To his relief, Draco finally managed to close his mouth and blink one or two times.

"I thought...I mean, I didn't....that is, I wasn't expecting you," he said with much effort, struggling with his lead weight body threatening to bring him to the ground.

"Well, I wasn't planning to _literally_ run into you either. It's not like I scheduled this, Malfoy. I didn't even know you were back," she added, looking over her shoulder towards the Great Hall as if she might just make a run for it.

He had killed her! He had! She had been there in her nightgown, her brilliant red hair contrasting with the blackness of the winter's sky, sobbing on the frozen ground, pleading and saying his name. He had called out the curse, the spell had leapt from his wand, Draco had hit her square in the chest, and her body had lain so still afterwards. Ginny's tears had still been wet on her freckle dusted cheeks when Draco received the Mark.

"Draco, what is the..." she began to say, but Draco tuned her out. He had to make sure she was real, that she wasn't just going to disappear as she always did in his dreams. Stepping awkwardly forward, he reached out a hand effectively silencing Ginny. The palm of his hand touched her smooth cheek. He was touching the girl he had killed. His hand moved to her hair, his fingers combing through the soft, full curls of the girl he had killed. He stepped forward again and she did not move. Somehow he was kissing the girl he had killed, and she did not disappear.

His body naturally pressed against hers until Ginny's backside was up against the staircase. Her hands were on the nape of Draco's neck, grasping at it and fisting in his hair bringing their mouths impossibly closer. In one fluid motion, Draco's arms were around her, one hand caressing the perfect "V" of Ginny's lower back and the other resting on her butt over her tantalizingly fitted jeans.

There was no protest from Ginny as Draco's tongue slipped inside her mouth, desperate to savor her taste. Draco had accepted the fact he'd never be with Ginny again, it hadn't seemed terribly difficult at the time. But now, he found himself wanting to be close to her, almost needing it.

They were both breathing through their noses, neither of them willing to break off the kiss to fill their lungs, and somehow one of Draco's legs slipped between Ginny's. Their bodies fit together in a maddeningly perfect way. And then he was being pushed away and the connection was broken.

"We can't, we have to stop," he heard a breathy Ginny say, Draco's eyes taking a moment to refocus after being so tightly shut. "You said it was a mistake...it WAS a mistake. You went a way and sent an owl saying it was a mistake, and Hermione and I agreed. I promised her I wouldn't...and now, Merlin Draco, you can't just change your mind like that."

How did the Weaslette manage to look so damn hot, Draco wondered, while raving like a lunatic? He silently cursed her mussed hair and swollen lips.

"Wait, wait, wait," Draco suddenly said, holding up his hand to silence her. "The Mudblood? You told the Mudblood we shagged?" This had to be some kind of joke. He could see it all now, Granger and Ginny squealing as they sat on pink afghan discussing every tiny detail. Ginny had no doubt talked about his "performance." Granger had probably been fantasizing about it ever since. Hell, she'd have to with the sorry excuse of a boyfriend she had groping at her. Draco's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Thank you for referring to our sleeping together so sentimentally, Draco," Ginny said, rolling her eyes and placing her hands on her hips rigidly.

Ginny had probably gone so far as to write all about her entrance into womanhood in a diary she kept hidden under her pillow, Draco thought. Women were needlessly sentimental about these types of things. "Try and keep your foolish, girly-fantasies to a bare minimum, Weaslette, if possible," Draco replied, dismissively waving a hand at her and refusing to think about her little diary any longer. "The point is, I don't particularly like the fact that the Mistress of Mud knows about my sex-life."

"Look, she's my best friend, Malfoy. She was actually trying to be there for me, something you would know nothing about. A lasting relationship to you means actually knowing the girl's name before AND after you sleep with her, so I don't expect you to understand.

"Ooh, harsh one, but you're wrong, baby Weasle. I always know the names of the girls I sleep with." He paused before adding, "well, their _first_ names at least." Draco couldn't help but smirk, it was too easy working Ginny up. And he had to admit, he enjoyed watching as her eyes lit up like flaming amber, as the crease on her forehead deepened as she glared, the way her slender fingers curled in frustration, and especially how hard she tried to hide it all. Yes, Draco enjoyed agitating her.

"Merlin, I'd like to wipe that smug smirk off your face right now, Malfoy," Ginny said, lowering her gaze to the floor.

"Why don't you?" Her head shot up at his challenge.

"That's how it happened the first time, remember? Outside your common room. I have no intention of starting it again." Ginny moved to brush past him, but Draco was not about to let her go, or else how would this be any different than his dreams? He grabbed her arm, making her turn. Ginny glanced down questioningly at his hand and for a moment, Draco thought, no, he hoped she would slap him.

"You promised Mudblood...what did you promise her?" he asked slowly, not taking his gaze off her full lips that so desperately needed to be on his.

"That I-I wouldn't: one, be alone with you again, two, look for you again, three, let you near me, four, go to your common room, and...five, that I wouldn't sleep with you again..." Ginny recited, as if she had repeated it over and over to herself until memorized.

"Quite a list you and Mudblood came up with," Draco replied thoughtfully lessening his grip slightly on her arm, which Ginny seemed to notice but did nothing about. "You've already broken three of those. What would the Mudblood say?" He feigned a gasp and added a look of concern because he could.

"Three? Like I said, Draco, I didn't come looking for you. And she has a name you know, Hermione Granger," Ginny persisted.

"Of course you did, Weasley," he replied, choosing to ignore the Granger comment—"Mudblood" worked well enough for him. Why did she insist on lying to herself? The facts could not be more visible. "You just _happened_ to wander down to the dungeons the day I came back, which the entire school knew about, no doubt. Or perhaps you were visiting dear Professor Snape—a Gryffindork's favorite professor," he said, his tone challenging her to deny it. He continued after a brief pause, "Do you know what I think, Weasley? I think you knew I'd be coming back any time today and found your way down here, just like that night, hoping you'd run into me. You're just DYING to break numbers four and five, aren't you? Haven't been able to stop thinking about it, have you? 'S been eating you up inside over the last two weeks, hasn't it?" Draco hissed through clenched teeth, pulling her closer to him again.

Ginny wrenched her arm away and took several steps backwards, laughing slightly. "Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. I don't want _anything_ to do with you, I assure you."

Draco's face lost its intensity and he shrugged. He was not about to stand here all night bickering over whether or not she sought him out—Draco already knew she had. "Continue disillusioning yourself if you wish, Ginny," he said, turning his back on her and ascending the stairs again, yawning widely enough for her to see. "But a Malfoy won't beg for what he can get from any girl."

He continued in a nonchalant gait, hands inside his trouser pockets, until rounding the last corner to the Slytherin House, before sprinting to the entrance. What was she doing still alive? He had to find out now. And Draco would bet a million galleons his father knew the answer.


	21. Systems

Hey all! Look at this, another update! I have to warn you, I don't know when the next one will be after this as I have THREE midterms this week. Eek, uni sucks. Anyhow, thanks so much for the reviews to all who did them. I will be responding to them after the end of the chapter. I'd like to once again entreat you all to keep reviewing. It helps get more people to read the ff if there are a lot of reviews, first of all. And second, it helps me know what kinds of things sound good to you, if there's anything I need to work on, etc. etc. Finally, it encourages me to write more. Ok, so this chapter is a good one...things continue to heat up for our little ship. So enjoy!

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Chapter 21: Systems

"Beelzebub." Draco said it in such a hurry that he was surprised when the wall actually vanished to reveal the empty Slytherin common room. The fire roused itself as Draco dashed through, crackling and snapping as he bounded up the stairs. Flinging the door open to his bedroom, Draco had to double back to secure the it shut. He could take no chances of someone accidentally overhearing the conversation he was about to have.

Draco headed straight for the fireplace and dropped to his knees before scooping a handful of the emerald dust from a canister and throwing it into the hearth. Immediately an eerily green fire erupted making Draco squint reactively.

"Home," he said clearly, lowering his head into the flames. Before him lay the Malfoy Manor's entryway he had left mere hours ago.

"Master Malfoy," a startled house elf screeched, dropping a tray full of dirtied teacups with a deafening shatter. "Sorry, so sorry, good sir...very sorry, sir...will punish self good, sir..." The elf continued bowing, apologizing, picking up the pieces of the broken tea set and had already begun beating its head against the wall before Draco could even open his mouth.

"Never mind!" Draco finally said sternly enough to stop the manic house elf. Merlin, these creatures were not worth the trouble they caused. "Get me my father immediately."

"Oh. Oh dear, sir," the elf began with quivering voice, wringing it's knotted hands, its bat-like ears flopping as he look nervously around the entryway. "I am afraid Master and Mistress just left for a party. Yes, Master and Mistress are extremely social, yes, very popular."

Of course they were out. The one time Draco tried to contact them, they were at another one of their insufferable parties. At least Draco could be grateful for one thing: he had not been dragged along with them. As a small child Draco had been forced to attend social affairs with his parents where he was poked, prodded, kissed, hugged, and petted by all the older women. At one point Narcissa had forced him to stand on a stool in the middle of the room so all the couples could look at what a fine young man he was turning into; he had felt like a regular circus act. Yes, he felt particularly grateful to be at Hogwarts at this moment.

"Tell my father the instant he returns home to contact me. It's urgent." The house elf was still bowing and praising the youngest Malfoy as he pulled his head out of the fire ending communication.

After going through the hassle of speaking to that worthless animal AND getting soot on his newly pressed shirt, Draco still knew nothing. Rising to his feet, he began uncharacteristically pacing about the room. If Ginny was still alive—which she most definitely was tonight, Draco thought, trailing his fingers lightly against his lips—then how did he get the Dark Mark? To get the Dark Mark, there had to be a test of loyalty. His test was to kill Ginny, and he had. It was that simple, or so it appeared.

There was a growing rumble from below as the Slytherin students began filing in from dinner that shook Draco from his thoughts. He'd ask Pansy, she would know something. Hurriedly opening his door once more, Draco pushed past the various students as he ascended the stairs to find Pansy chatting with her friends below.

"Pansy!" Draco called from the bottom of the staircase, making several heads turn. "Uh, I need to, uh, talk to you," he said more quietly, hoping it came out unrushed and natural. Even in the Slytherin house you couldn't be too sure.

Pansy's gang of Slytherin girls giggled and she noticeably smirked at them, there was no doubt what they were thinking. "Of course, Draco," Pansy said evenly, walking calmly after him as he climbed the winding Slytherin house stairs once again.

"What do you know about how I became a Death Eater?" Draco asked the minute he closed the door behind them. Pansy frowned. This was not what she was expecting, a fact Draco brushed aside with ease.

"Well." She stuttered, shrugged, and then crossed the room towards Draco's bed. "I know that you killed old what's-her-name in the field where the farmer found her. It was in all of the papers the next day. I don't think it was smart of them to have you kill a girl whose family is so involved in the Ministry of Magic. Weren't being too careful," Pansy said almost lazily, lowering herself onto Draco's bed and lounging on her side as if on a Victorian chaise, posing for a nude portrait.

Draco failed to notice her behavior and continued on. "And the girl they found... who was it?" He wouldn't have thought it possible, but Pansy snorted.

"You were there, Draco," she laughed, resting her head on her palm, the corners of her mouth turned up.

"Blood hell, just tell me!" Draco yelled having lost what little patience he had previously possessed. This was no joke, how could she not see this? The unperceptive, twittering hag.

Pansy's face turned down, the game having obviously ended. "Well I don't remember her name, Draco," she snapped pointedly, sitting up as Draco was obviously in no mood. "I don't consult with THOSE types of people."

She was useless, utterly useless. Draco had been wrong about Pansy, she hadn't changed, she wasn't more mature, and the comfort he found in her company days ago had vanished without a trace. He was just about to banish her from his room forever when she spoke again. "You know her though, Draco. That ridiculous Hufflepuff with the hideously thick, pink glasses...the one we're always saying must have been bred by trolls?"

"Mortenson?" Draco asked incredulously. "Mildred Mortenson?" Images of the time when Mildred furiously batted her eyelashes at Draco until the weight of her body forced her to the floor in the Great Hall ran through his brain. That was when he received the owl asking Draco to be in the History of Magic classroom. He had assumed it was from Mildred. It was only by his nagging curiosity that he found himself waiting outside the classroom that night. And it was Ginny that had shown up, much to Draco's surprise.

But how did that make any sense? He had clearly both seen and killed Ginny that night. There is no way in Merlin's crystal ball that he had mistaken an ogre like Mortenson for Ginny. It's true that Mildred's family was very involved in the Ministry, and her father was attached to every anti-Dark Lord movement, but so was Ginny's. But Ginny was most definitely alive, here, at Hogwarts now. Draco rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger, this was all very confusing.

"Why are you even surprised? You're the one that killed her, my father said so," Pansy added, looking as if Draco had become a creature of insanity, sprouting an extra pair of heads before her very eyes.

"Get out," Draco sighed heavily.

"What?" Pansy asked, her tone both scandalized and shocked but unmoved from her perch on Draco's bed.

"I said leave. I need to think," Draco repeated simply. She stared at him with an open mouth as if at any moment he'd come to his senses and beg her to stay. When Draco remained silent, she rose to her feet.

"Fine," Pansy huffed as she crossed the room and exited, letting the door slam to demonstrate her annoyance.

Draco, preoccupied with the situation at hand, barely acknowledged her leaving. He had killed Mildred Mortenson, not Ginny. Was the Dark Lord trying to trick him? Was it all a joke? Perhaps he had been so overwhelmed by thoughts of Ginny that it was manifest in seeing her instead of Mildred, or some other explanation involving psychological mumbo-jumbo. Exhaling slowly, Draco moved to his bed and fell backwards onto it. He felt nothing having really killed Mildred instead of Ginny—trading in a Gryffindor for a Hufflepuff. Either was he had proved his loyalty to the Dark Lord and one more muggle lover was out of the way. Yet Draco couldn't deny there was something...what was it? Relief?

Night had never passed so slowly—Draco had spent much of it tossing and turning, getting water from the bathroom, or attempting and failing to start on his homework. He had stayed up all night, expecting his father's head to appear in the eerie green flames at any moment. It never did and when the sun finally rose, Draco had already showered, dressed, and was on his way to breakfast.

The day passed much the same way as the night had. Draco spent the better part of Transfiguration staring at the windows, waiting to see the flapping wings and hear the pecking of his father's owl at the window. This ended in a bit of embarrassment when Draco, preoccupied with his watch, swished his wand the wrong way and transfigured one of Goyle's feet into the base of a cloak rack. Draco managed to blame it on Longbottom, the infamous blunder-King, with ease and grinned more widely when McGonnagal went so far as to take points away from the Gryffindorks. He was certain they'd start an uprising, and leaned back in his chair to watch it all.

Ginny wasn't there, (a frowning Pansy was, however) Draco noticed immediately when he entered the Great Hall later that evening for dinner. Where was she? What was she doing? His obsession had come back full-force ever since he'd seen her alive. It didn't particularly help that Draco had pulled Ginny into a fiery kiss the moment he'd seen her. Definitely not his smartest move; he could not allow himself to be tangled up in another one of Ginny's sticky webs.

The door to the Great Hall opened with an echoing creak and Draco's head shot up. It was a group chattering Ravenclaws. Not Ginny. Draco turned back to his thoughts. On top of his regained obsession, his father had still not replied. When he returned to his dorm, Draco would immediately try to contact his father again. No doubt the careless elf just never relayed the message, which he would be punished for.

Draco ate the last bit of custard clinging to the sides of the bowl and watched the dirtied dishes disappear before getting to his feet and heading out the door. As if pre-arranged by the fates, Ginny was waiting (or so it appeared) outside the doors.

"Bloody hell..." she swore exasperatedly, her shoulders slumping.

Draco's mouth curled into a pleasantly surprised grin. "You have to stop following me, Weasley. It really is getting quite pathetic."

"I'm not!" she immediately protested. Draco could tell Ginny was being honest, but it didn't stop him from having a little fun.

"I was confident in my _performance_, but I didn't realize they'd turn you into a stalker. Perhaps I would have been more discerning had I known," Draco said silkily, provoking her further. He wanted to see her worked up again. He wanted to bend and shape her emotions and then leave her to fall.

"I'm not having this conversation, Malfoy," Ginny said abruptly, obviously having made some prior resolve to avoid Draco. Turning around, she began to head back the way she came. Draco smirked—no doubt planning to hide out in the Gryffindor common room out of the Slytherin's reach.

"Still trying to adhere to the Mudblood's rules?" Draco teased, letting her walk away a few paces before beginning to follow. "I daresay you will not be successful," he added when close enough to whisper it. "The girls of Hogwarts have never been able to resist me."

Ginny wheeled around so suddenly Draco almost lost his balance. "How CAN you be so brash all the time? Do you ever stop!?" Her voice came out it short, harsh bursts.

"And how can YOU be so emotional all the time?" he countered. "I've been around a fair share of women, and you are, by far, the craziest of them all."

"Are you ever sensible?" Ginny replied quickly, her cheeks reddening.

"Are YOU ever sensible?" Draco said without a thought.

"Why do you do this?" She asked just as quickly and waving a hand in the air for emphasis.

"Why do you enjoy it?" Draco taunted, stepping close enough to her so he could see every flaring freckle scattered across Ginny's face.

"Who said I did?" She snipped, turning away once again and continuing her retreat. That's it, Draco thought, run away.

"Do you deny it?" Ginny laughed at Draco's tenacious question but did not reply and made a quick turn instead. Draco, hot on her heels, followed suit. "Do you even know where you're going Weasley?" She did not reply and kept walking briskly. Draco was tiring quickly of this game and gripped her arm, forcing her to stop and turning her to face him. "Didn't your mother ever teach you it's not polite to ignore someone?" He asked, his face dangerously close to hers.

"You are not one to lecture on manners, Malfoy. You really ARE a ferret, you know that?" She snapped when Draco wouldn't release her struggling arm.

"Ferret or not, you can't stop thinking about me. About what we did. You know what I want and I know you want it too, so don't act all Ms. Morality with me." Again, Ginny did not reply and her body stopped struggling. "Neither of us likes the situation, so the faster we get it out of systems the faster we can move on." His voice was progressively softening, as well as his grip.

She was biting her bottom lip, chewing it to pieces no doubt due to her internal struggle. Draco distinctly remembered doing the same weeks before. "You think it will go away, then?" Her voice was small, but it pounded and echoed in Draco's ears. She was admitting it! She was being controlled by the same chaotic forces!

"Yes," he managed to say evenly. It was hard to foresee a time when there would not be this overwhelming burning sensation inside, when his body would finally obey his brain, when he would not feel these things. It hadn't come when Ginny was supposedly dead. But this HAD to go away, and Draco was determined to do what he could to make it.

The dark hallway was silent except for the sound of Ginny's uneven, scared breathing. Was she trembling? He had always gotten pleasure in making her squirm before, but not now.

"Don't," he said awkwardly. She took her bottom lip between her teeth again but continued shaking. "Don't," he said again, raising a hand to cup her flushed cheek and trailing it down her jaw before lifting her chin.

Her dark eyes met his hesitantly for an instant before her eyelids closed and their lips met. Their previous kisses were always rushed and hungry. This was entirely new with a different kind of passion.

He still felt Ginny's small body tremble against his. Instinctively he did not push or force her on, he waited for her to want it. Little by little, she relaxed under his kiss and reached a single arm to encircle Draco's neck. Normally such a languid pace would be dull enough for Draco to call it quits and send the girl off with the suggestion that she return when she became woman enough. But this was anything but boring and Draco took the opportunity to memorize every centimeter of Ginny's smooth lips. And then they parted for Draco's tongue, and he began the task of memorizing every curve, bump, and corner of the inside of her mouth.

Soon Ginny's other arm wrapped around Draco's neck, holding on as if at any moment he might leave. Somehow Draco didn't mind. His hands moved to her back, caressing it and following the curve of her spine. How could it feel so good to hold someone, especially when that someone was the enemy? On her own, Ginny move forward, sliding against Draco's body. If she wasn't careful, Draco would not be willing to stop.

He moved his mouth down her jaw, to the sensitive spot below her ear, and down the creamy skin of her neck. She curled her fingers in Draco's hair and moaned softly—Draco would definitely be less willing to stop now.

"Draco..."

Oh merlin, now she was saying his name... his FIRST name. This was definitely heading in a destination that wouldn't be particularly safe to go to in an open hallway.

"Draco..." she said again. "It will stop?"

"What?" he muttered against her neck, sucking and kissing it as she swirled her hands through his hair.

"We...we just have to...," she began breathily, sighing several times, "get it out...of our systems? And it will stop?"

"Yes," he replied, needing to convince himself of the fact just as much as her.

She nodded slightly and moved a hand to cup Draco's jaw, directing his mouth back to hers for a more intense kiss. He pulled her more tightly against him, a hand sliding slightly under the back of her button up shirt. His limbs were not responding to his brain anymore, and the hallway was becoming a more and more dangerous place.

"Draco," she pulled her mouth away from him slightly, "take me to your dorm...before dinner is over..."

Slightly startled by her request, Draco remained motionless momentarily. Rarely had he been caught off guard, but then, Ginny had been the exception to many trends. He lowered his arm, silently agreeing. In a move that only added to Draco's surprise, he entwined their hands together before leading Ginny to his room.

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Ok, now to respond to your comments.

Quidditch3- Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you've been reading all the way along.

Claire- I hope everything became even clearer for you in this chapter.

AxelBlaze- Most to almost all of the confusion should be sorted out in the next chapter. I shall continue writing!!

Wingedcinner- You're very perceptive to have picked up on it being another girl. Good for you! Yeah, poor Draco... he's being eaten up inside. That is, when he isn't snogging Ginny senseless. Lol If we could be so lucky, eh?

Laura Riddle- Thanks for your enthusiasm. It takes me a while, sometimes, to update because of school and work, etc. Hope I don't keep you waiting too long.


	22. Logic

Chapter 22: Logic

Draco, hands behind his head, stared up at the canopy of his four-poster bed. If getting it out of their systems meant they could do THAT frequently, he was ready to make the sacrifice over and over and over again. Ginny was extremely inexperienced—Draco often had to guide her with his words or direct her fumbling hands—but somehow her naivety made it all the more enjoyable.

His eyes traveled to his left where Ginny lay asleep beside him, hands clutching at the blanket. She was out of place in his room. Perhaps it was the enchanted moonlight seeping in from the small, fortress-like windows, but Ginny's perfect skin seemed to glow contrasting sharply against the black and green of Draco's dorm. Good versus evil right here in his own room.

Yawning, Draco turned on his side towards Ginny. His body seemed naturally inclined to mold itself against her, and Draco was too sleepy to stop it. He tugged at the blanket, covering his bare torso and blinked several times until his eyelids closed altogether.

It could have only been minutes, however, before he was woken by an eerie green glow coming from the fireplace.

"Draco," a voice hissed not too quietly. Draco let his eyes close again, the fireplace had not just been talking to him. "Draco!" the voice said more impatiently, making Draco bolt upright. He scrambled off his bed, fully awake after glimpsing his father's head in the fireplace, and threw on a robe. He glanced at Ginny, praying to Merlin she would stay asleep, and hurried to the fireplace where he dropped on all fours.

"I see you've been busy," Lucius' bobbing head said, smirking up at Draco with pride.

"Father, I..." Draco began, shooting a quick look over his shoulder at the vague form of Ginny. Of course he chose to reply right now, when a family enemy was curled up, sound asleep in a bed mere meters away.

"I'm glad to see you've been putting your birthday present to good use. That Parkinson girl, is it? Or maybe a naïve little Ravenclaw? Perhaps an experienced and talented Slytherin..."

"It's just a girl, father," Draco said hurriedly, hoping to end the conversation on Draco's bedfellows as soon as possible. He needed to get answers while Ginny was still asleep.

"I see. Well what was so bloody important then?" Lucius snapped, his hopes of getting a play-by-play dashed.

This certainly was not ideal. How could Draco talk to his father when Ginny could wake up at any moment? How would it look to find Draco and his father whispering through the fireplace about murders? Draco swallowed, he would just have to risk it and be careful. Lucius would be furious if Draco asked for a rain check.

"I wanted to know, sir, about my test... and the girl I killed." Lucius stared back at him, showing no sign of comprehension. Draco continued, lowering himself closer to the fireplace. "The one they brought to me was...the, er, little Weasley girl, but when I returned to school..."

"And if you HAD seen that vile Mortensen child before you?" Lucius interrupted, his face flickering in and out with the curling flames. "Would you have cared at all? No, you would have thought you were doing a service to the world by getting rid of that ogre. But very innocent, familiar Ginevra Weasley...the Dark Lord somehow knew it would be more difficult for you."

"Ginevra?" Draco wrinkled his nose slightly. He hadn't known that was her real name. Draco would be the first to point out that the Weasley's were not a thinking sort of people, but even THEY would have enough sense to realize that name was awful, surely.

"I can tell you, I was far from pleased when they brought a Weasley look-a-like out," Lucius said with the utmost hatred in this voice. "But the Dark Lord said he had his reasons."

Draco tried to swallow the knot in his throat. How much did the Dark Lord know, he wondered, recalling how it had felt like Voldemort had literally been inside his mind. "Why didn't they just bring the real Weasley, then?"

Lucius seemed to growl before responding. "That bloody family is heavily protected, and all of their mutant children are carefully watched. It would not have been safe. I do not know what your connection is with the Weasley, Draco, but stay the hell away from them!"

A rustling noise and a sleepy sigh came from the bed. Draco looked nervously back as the silhouette of Ginny's body as she rolled over and draped an arm over where Draco SHOULD have been.

"I'll let you get back to your companion," Lucius said more calmly, a smirk once again tugging at his lips.

"Thank you, sir," Draco managed to stutter out as he watched his father's head disappear in the weakening green flames. He waited until every ember died out before exhaling and rising to his feet to pad softly back to his bed.

Discarding his robes, adding to the disordered pile on the floor, Draco slipped under the covers and watched as Ginny's long eyelashes fluttered before opening completely. It was only by the grace of Merlin that she hadn't woken up before and overheard the entire exchange.

"Where did you go?" she asked quietly, their foreheads pressing lightly together as Ginny curled sleepily against him.

"To get a drink," Draco lied, his hand finding its way to the bare small of her back where it began tracing up and down Ginny's spine.

"I thought I heard talking," Ginny whispered, mouth moving while her eyes began to close again.

"It was a dream. Go back to sleep," Draco replied in a soothing voice that surprised even him to hear and even more so, to use. He continued to massage Ginny's back lightly until her breathing was steady and her lips parted slightly. That had been a close call. The last person that needed to be informed about the workings of the Dark Lord was a Weasley, especially considering Draco's part in the whole affair.

This was a gamble—the biggest gamble of Draco's life. He was becoming involved with the enemy. This HAS to be temporary, Draco thought to himself, his jaw clenching naturally. Every time they were together, every moment they were near each other was dangerous.

Lucius had warned him while speaking through the Floo Network to stay away from the Weasleys. But Lucius wasn't at Hogwarts, and now inside the dorm room, no one existed except Draco and Ginny.

Something was tickling Draco's forearm, tracing a pattern lightly across his skin. Was he being summoned? No, surely the Dark Lord wouldn't summon him on a cold, dark Saturday morning when Draco was so comfortable under his mound of feather-stuffed blankets. Voldemort's cruelty could not go THAT far. Draco stirred slightly and the tickling stopped.

Blinking several time, Draco willed himself to wake up. It took a moment before his eyes managed to focus and recognize the face of Ginny Weasley peering over him, a mass of red hair curls spilling over her bare shoulders and down the white sheet clinging to her torso. Surprised to find the girl watching him, Draco's breath caught in his throat and he pulled himself to a sitting position quickly, leaning against the headboard.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Ginny said hurriedly, moving away slightly as if unsure of what Draco would do if provoked early in the morning.

"I wasn't _scared_," Draco replied indignantly, crossing his arms over his bare chest to hide its involuntary heaving. "I'm just not accustomed to people hovering over me when I'm sleeping, that's all."

Ginny's cheeks reddened noticeably. There was a moment's silence between the two as Draco tried to appear unflustered and Ginny looked away to hide her embarrassment.

"I wasn't hovering..." she finally said. "I just...that is, I happened to notice your..." Draco looked at her expectantly as the youngest Weasley struggled over her words, the blush on Ginny's cheeks only growing more apparent. "For Merlin's sake!" she said, exasperated at her own incompetence. She tugged Draco's right arm away from where it was crossed and turned it over to reveal the Dark Mark. The two stared at the black brand in silence, Draco immediately beginning to consider using a memory charm.

He cursed himself for having been stupid enough to not hide it? Of course, there hadn't been much time to think things through when Ginny told Draco to take her to his dorm room—he hadn't been terribly clear headed at the time.

"It's You-Know-Who's Mark, isn't it?" she asked in an uncharacteristically small voice, never taking her eyes off the vague form of the entwined snake and skull.

Draco wrenched his arm away from her. How could she be surprised? Surely Ginny could not be naïve enough to think everything people said about the Malfoys were just rumors. Her own brother had been calling Draco a Death Eater since first year. And while Ronald Weasley wasn't known for his intellect nor his intuition, Ginny should have been prepared. Immediately his defenses went up.

"What about it?" Draco growled in a way that reminded him of Lucius. He glared at his bedmate who looked back at him with wide, frightened eyes. Ginny remained unmoved for so long, Draco was sure someone had hit her with a Petrificus Totalus spell from behind. Her silence was beginning to unnerve him. Perhaps performing a memory charm was an option after all.

Draco turned away from her and slid off the bed, inhaling sharply as his bare feet made contact with the cold stone floor. Crossing the room towards his dresser, Draco put on a pair of boxers. "You knew who you were dealing when this all started, Weasley. I've never given you a reason to think I was any different than who I am." Draco tugged on a t-shirt as well, his words muffled slightly as the neck elastic got caught on his nose.

"Did you just get it?" Ginny asked, trying to sound as if she was inquiring after a new article of clothing or something equally trivial. She turned on the bed to face him, never letting go of the sheet. It made sense she was asking, Draco hadn't gone through his initiation yet the first time he and Ginny were together.

If Draco were smart he'd end everything now. It was getting too dangerous already. Draco ignored that thought. "Look, if this is going to work, you can't ask me questions about...well, any of that and I won't ask you questions about...well, whatever it is the members of the Potter Club do." Ginny rolled her eyes at him, but Draco pretended not to notice and continued. "The less you know, the better for both of us it will be. We'll continue acting as we always have, except now we will have sex until it's out of our systems." It sounded logical, after all, it was only a physical obsession.

Ginny raised an eyebrow, her cheeks reddening again. "So we will still hold onto our mutual hatred of each other...You'll still think of me as a lower-class witch, and I can still call you a smarmy git..."

"...It'd be strange if you didn't. And when the time comes, I will be on my own side and you on yours, free from guilt. Neither one of us will have been a traitor," Draco finished for her. Could it really be that simple? Something inside Draco screamed a resounding "no!" again. Draco overlooked it—he'd already gotten away with murder after all. This would be similarly effortless.

Ginny seemed to be contemplating what Draco had said—she had her bottom lip between her teeth again and a hand toyed with the ends of her hair. Draco began picking up some of the clothes around the room, pretending not to watch or show his interest.

"What time is it?" She asked abruptly.

"A quarter passed 5," Draco groaned after checking his watch a second time. They were going to need to have a serious talk about Saturday mornings if Ginny insisted rising this early.

"Oh Merlin," she said nervously, practically leaping out of the bed and rushing passed Draco in a flesh-toned blur. "My suitemates can't find my bed empty again!" Draco stood back in awe as the girl dressed at lighting speed—probably something you had to learn when the you were youngest of an unnaturally large family, Draco supposed.

"I don't think I can sleep here anymore," Ginny said hurriedly as she stepped into the tight jeans Draco's hands were admiring the night before.

"What? It's only been twice," Draco said in shock. Any girl with half a brain would give her wand to sleep in Draco's room and in his bed. The Weasley was obviously not thinking clearly at the moment. "I'm not sleeping in a Gryffindork room. I would not place a toe in the common room," Draco said defensively, wrinkling his nose at the thought and crossing his arms over his chest broodingly.

"Well that's fine, Draco, because my suitemates are not as easy to get rid of as your band of apes," Ginny snapped back, sitting on the end of Draco's bed to lace up her shoes and looking away from him purposefully.

"So it's broom closets and empty classrooms then for us," Draco states matter-of-factly. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but somehow Draco rather liked the little Weasely in his bed. What was the matter with him? "That's just fine with me," he said a little more enthusiasm then he had planned.

Ginny looked at him hesitantly, their choices not terribly appealing to her either it appeared. "Right...well, I should get back before the house wakes up. I'll just, uh, see you, then...smarmy git..." she added, shooting Draco a slight grin before heading for the door.

"Meet me later," Draco called to her back, making Ginny turn and look at him. "There's, uh, a broom closet I've been meaning to try out on the fifth floor. Around eight?"

The rosy hue Draco liked so much returned to Ginny's cheeks. "If I can get away..." With that she opened the door, looked both ways and stepped into the hallway. With a contented sigh, Draco headed back to his bed, not ready to start his Saturday without another few hours worth of sleep.


	23. Winter Wars

Whooo. I finally am updating! Sorry I've been MIA… I had finals, ran off to France, came back, started school… yeah, don't ask.

Thanks to Tara-Yo, ;) , Yvette Sorrow, pishcules, Calla-ForEvEa, PnAyxTrAcKsTaR01, hogwarts, fran, Quidditch3, Icy Lullaby, writergirl1505, and potatomaker for reviewing. You all are great!

Ok, this is the first chapter of any ff or ficlet I've ever written that could be considered fluffy. I found it actually incredibly difficult to write. I've been doing angst for so long that it just seems unnatural to have something end happily. Anyhow, if it seems a bit lacking, just know that I struggled writing this chapter. Other than that…please keep reviewing! I can't stress how important it is. Enjoy!

& SEPARATING &

Chapter 23: Winter Wars

The next few weeks passed with unnatural speed and time seemed to be measured by the next time Draco would sneak off to meet Ginny. 10 am…6 more hours until a pre-dinner snog. 12:30…3 hours and 30 more minutes. 2 pm…2 more hours. Whole class periods were spent dreaming up different ways to drag Ginny off with him—different ways of ambushing her in the hallway between classes, sending her notes with disappearing ink, getting her attention with suggestive looks from across the Great Hall. Draco found that as he daydreamed, his leg involuntarily bounced rapidly up and down in anticipation. 

"I have to go," Ginny moaned breathily one afternoon after Draco trapped her in a deserted hallway and pulled her into what appeared to be a dark janitor's closet. She made no attempt to move and Draco continued sucking on the soft skin between Ginny's shoulder and ear, eliciting another moan.

"They're waiting for me in the Great Hall," Ginny said, closing her eyes and tilting her head back to rest on the wall. "I'm supposed to…oh…"

"Let them wait," Draco mumbled against her skin, pressing Ginny against the wall a bit more letting her know he had no intention of letting her go any time soon. He grinned to himself when Ginny's hands began swirling in his hair and tugging at it each time Draco's mouth hit a sensitive spot.

"They're getting suspicious…" Ginny tried again.

Of course they were. What started out as an occasional rendez-vous once or twice a week was turning into a several times a day thing. Draco's own friends were beginning to ask questions and Draco found he was running out of excuses. After all, there were only so many times one could plausibly forget something in the library, and no one seemed to need as much fresh air as Draco recently had. He and Ginny had been luck so far, though. No other hormone driven teens had ever wandered into their broom closets or empty classrooms. Draco didn't want to think about it anymore. One of his hands moved to Ginny's leg and began inching its way up her skirt.

"Draco, we can't…" her small hands pushed lightly against Draco's chest. He frowned. "I told you I couldn't stay long. Harry's supposed to tutor me in DADA."

If anything could dampen the mood, any mention of Potter would do it. Draco immediately retracted his hand. All at once it was over as if Draco had not only been doused, but completely drenched by a bucket of ice cold water.

"Right. Wouldn't want to keep you from your boyfriend," Draco snarled, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly and pulling away. The more and more time Draco spent with Ginny, the more he was convinced she was absolutely nutters. It was shocking, really. She was leaving Draco…Draco Malfoy, to get cozy with the whiny little orphan.

"Oh stop it. You know very well he's not my boyfriend," Ginny said indignantly, straightening her shirt a little. "And don't look at me like that," she added when Draco stared back at her with skeptical eyes.

"Don't pretend you don't worship the ground the skinny little twerp walks on, Weasley…Though how anyone could is beyond me," he added just loud enough for her to hear, and continued standing arms crossed stubbornly.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Draco? I don't like Harry!" she said more loudly, her little hands bawling up into fists. "Why should you care anyway? It's not like you don't have a million little tramps at your beckon call."

Wait one second. How did she turn this around to be Draco's fault? Clever minx. Draco had no intention of letting her win, no matter how much her feistiness turned him on. He could not let himself get caught up in the desires of his trousers. "Now hold on Weasley. You're the one hurrying off to meet someone else, not me. And why shouldn't you? It's not like THIS means anything," he said emphatically, gesturing with a hand between the two of them.

For an instant, Ginny looked almost…hurt… "I don't think if I ever searched the entire world, I could find anyone as immature as you, Draco Malfoy." She was upset…She had used his full name. Ginny snatched up her bag from the floor and quickly left the broom closet, letting the door slam behind her. 

Draco stood in the darkness of the closet, almost preferring to be absolutely blind to the world for a moment. This had certainly not turned out the way he had planned during all of his morning classes. He'd even drawn diagrams, none of which depicted him being ALONE in the closet. If this situation proved anything, it was that talking was completely unnecessary and should be kept to an absolute bare minimum in the future. The question was…what would Draco be forced to do to ensure that there would even BE a future?

Cringing, Draco looked both ways and stepped out of the broom closet. He, Draco Malfoy, could NOT be seen coming out of a broom closet alone—the Gryffindork Gossips would have a hey-day. And as far as Ginny was concerned, he would certainly not apologize. He hadn't done anything wrong. It had all been Ginny's fault, though Draco doubted very much that SHE would see it as clearly as he did.

It was obvious Ginny was trying to ignore him, Draco noted during dinner in the Great Hall. Several times he had tried to get her attention, and each time she would emit a loud, pretentious laugh as if someone had just made the joke of the year. She'd finish off the act by smirking in Draco's general direction while touching Harry's arm. And even though Draco knew it was an attempt, and a pitiful one at that, on the Weasley's part to aggravate him, Draco had the overwhelming desire to drag Potter outside and give him a beating just for breathing.

That was it--Draco was surely above playing the part of pitiful bystander number one. Looking around quickly, Draco picked up his plate and goblet, and slid down a few seats to where Pansy and her gang were sitting.

"Uh, hi, Draco," Pansy said obviously a bit startled.

He had gotten Ginny's attention—she'd removed her hand from Harry's arm and was now intently watching Draco. He smirked. Two could definitely play this game.

"Hey, Panse…" Draco began, slipping his arm noticeably around Pansy's waist. "Wow, you smell good enough to eat." He leaned forward and began nuzzling Pansy's neck, making HER giggle and Ginny cringe. You could always count on Pansy to act like a twittering idiot when you needed her to, Draco thought.

Suddenly, Ginny, red faced and fists once again bawled, got up and stalked out of the Great Hall. Draco pulled back smugly and took a large swig from his goblet in celebration. He'd won, easily.

"Well, thanks for that. See you, then," he said, quite happy with himself, and got up from the table to go find Ginny. Now they were both even and everything could be forgotten. Draco was so pleased with himself as he walked towards the door, in fact, that he managed to ignore the expletives Pansy yelled after him.

Draco walked out just in time to see Ginny duck outside the castle and followed after her. Pulling his collar up a bit higher around his neck and slipping his hands inside his pockets, Draco stepped onto the fresh-powdered snow.

Ginny turned around at the sound and sighed agitatedly. "Why do you always follow me?"

"Come now, you can't still be mad," Draco said, walking almost lazily towards her.

"Oh no? You get mad when I even study with Harry, but you practically fondle puggy-Parkinson in front of the whole school and I'm not allowed to be slightly agitated?" Ginny countered, her face contorting as if the mere mention of Pansy left a sour taste in her mouth.

"STUDY? Is that what you call it?!" Draco's voice had quickly elevated. "Oh Harry, you're so funny," he said in a high-pitched voice meant to impersonate Ginny. "You clever, lovely little Scarhead of an oaf!" Draco continued, petting the air around him and ogling at it dreamily. "I was almost sick on the floor from your STUDYING, Weasley," he said, his voice having returned to normal.

"So you're jealous then, is that what this is?"

Once again Weasley had missed the mark completely. Draco snorted and turned back for the castle. "Yeah, that's a good one…Right, I'm jealous, that's what this all is. You've pinned tail on the Kneazle, Weasely, you really have. Your intuition never ceases to amaze me!"

The fact of the matter is that, much to Draco's annoyance, the Weasley's comment had some truth in it. Draco didn't really know much about jealousy. His possessions were always better then everyone else's, and what he didn't have already, he went out and bought. Most girls were putty in his hands, and he could steal any girl from their boyfriend with little to no work at all. Jealousy is what other people felt towards Draco Malfoy, not the other way around. But as much as Draco hated to admit it, jealousy is exactly what he felt whenever Ginny even mentioned another guy's name, particularly Potter.

Suddenly, something cold and hard collided with the back of Draco's head. His hand immediately shot up to feel what appeared to be snow on the nape of Draco's neck. He whipped around to see Ginny covering her mouth, suppressing her giggles. Draco looked at his hand and back at Ginny, only to gaze at his hand once more. Had she just thrown snow at him?

"You act as if you've never been hit with a snowball before," Ginny said almost incomprehensibly through bursts of giggles, a hand clutching her side.

"I haven't," Draco replied simply, raising an eyebrow at her curiously.

"Be serious," Ginny said, her laughing having disappeared only to be replaced with a look of astonishment.

"I am."

"You've never once had a snowball fight?" She tried again.

"Of course not," Draco sniffed as if even the very thought of rolling around in the snow was beneath him. Ginny continued to gape at him. "Look, just because your family enjoys animal-like romps in the snow doesn't mean we all do…"

Draco barely had enough time to finish the sentence before another snowball collided front on with his face, instantly making him splutter. Scraping the snow from his face, Draco tore across the ground towards Ginny. He wasn't about to let her keep acting as if he were her own personal target. Ginny screeched just before Draco's body collided with her, and soon the two were in a heap on the snow.

Immediately Draco got to his knees and began dumping armfuls of snow on Ginny. It wasn't terribly effective, as much of the snow blew away with the wind, but it was the best he could do given the fact that Draco had never been instructed on how to make a proper snowball. Ginny spluttered and coughed, but when Draco reached over to gather more snow, she whipped out her wand and tackled him to the ground. Before Draco could stop her, she flicked her wand. A dozen snowballs were suddenly hovering over Draco's face, ready to obliterate him. 

"Now, now," Draco began, raising his arms above his head slowly to show his surrender. He glanced to his right. If Draco was quick, he could make a quick getaway. Ginny seemed anticipate this and straddled him, pushing her weight on him to keep him pinned to the ground. This was much better, Draco thought to himself. Suddenly preserving his face had very little importance. "We should have more snowball fights if they end like this every time, Weasley."

"Save your sweet talk, Malfoy," Ginny said harshly, trying to show him who had the upper hand here though Draco was hardly convinced. "Say you surrender and admit you were jealous or you'll get it!"

"Get it?" Draco looked up at her smugly, arching an eyebrow suggestively. "And are YOU going to give it to me, Weasley?"

Ginny pinked slightly but tried to maintain her cool. It was too easy. "I-I… well, yes. I'll smother your face with snowballs!" she added quickly.

"Oh yeah?" Draco challenged. With a quick twist, the roles had been reversed and Ginny lay flat on her back, her wand having been tossed to the side. Her breath came out in quick puffs as she looked up at Draco in surprise. "No, YOU'RE going to get it…" Draco growled before leaning in and kissing Ginny hotly on the mouth. Now this was his kind of winter activity.

All previous arguments and accusations had been forgotten. After one last lingering kiss inside the dark entryway of Hogwarts, Draco and Ginny separated to return, shivering and wet to their houses. Draco again slipped his numb, tingly hands back into his pockets. As he replayed the events over again in his head, a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. He doubted very much that the snow had anything to do with the tingling he felt inside, though he'd be the last to actually admit it.


	24. Assignments

Wow, it's been a long time since I updated. I'm really sorry about that all, but it's been an unbelievably hectic couple months for me. Part of the reason is because I was working on an HP site. I hope you'll all go and check it out at marauders hyphen map dot org . There's also a steadily growing ff archive, this ff will soon be on it. Go to fanfiction dot marauders hyphen map dot org and join up! I'd love to see all your ffs on there!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and all my little silent readers. You all are great. I appreciate feedback, so feel free to give it! One last thing, this story obviously isn't in line with the HBP anymore (though, to my pride, I DID get a lot of things right about Draco), and all of this was planned out before HBP. So keep that in mind.

Chapter 24: Assignments

&

With the end of the year fast approaching, the farthest thing from Draco's mind was studying. When Draco wasn't sneaking off with Ginny, he was practicing for the quidditch house cup, or studying for his N.E.W.T.S. Like every other student, all aspects of school had completely taken over his life.

And yet, it was odd. Draco hadn't been summoned or even owled from the Death Eaters since that night in the field. He had always assumed when he, Draco, became a member he'd be rushing off at all hours of the night to meetings, receiving secret messages, or at least receiving some type of instruction—just like Draco had seen his father do. Yet nothing. No communication, no news, no command, no missions, just silence. That is, until one overly warm March day.

Draco had been studying, at least pretending to, in the library while Ginny studied at another table a few rows down. They had been scribbling messages back and forth to each other over the last hour. As a result, Draco had managed to read only the first five sentences of the N.E.W.T. Preparation Guide book Ginny bought for him. "You're not taking it seriously," Ginny had cautioned as she presented the guide to him. With a grimace, Draco had taken the book—it was not worth refusing, Ginny would just continue the lecture.

"It's no good, I can't study," Draco scrawled on his parchment, watching it disappear.

Ginny's words appeared a few seconds later. "Just concentrate harder."

Draco's quill scratched against the parchment with his reply. "I can't. Let's take a five minute broom closet break." Again, his hopeful words vanished.

"No," Ginny's words came back quickly. "You know we won't be able to study again if we… take a break."

Quill hovering over the parchment, Draco considered begging. He really couldn't handle the silence of the library anymore. Whats more, his head felt like it was going to explode from all the information he had been cramming into it over the last few hours. They had to leave. Draco would just threaten to go find amusement elsewhere and then Ginny would cons-…

Without warning, a burning sensation tore across the skin of Draco's forearm. Dropping his quill and pushing up his sleeve, Draco watched as the normally blurry Dark Mark became instantly clear. Draco had never been summoned before, though he had often seen his father clutch his forearm and leave the room directly, somehow knowing where to go.

Following suit, Draco got to his feet and hastily stuffed his books, parchment, and quills into his bag. He could feel Ginny's eyes on him, but Draco purposely looked away. This was the part of his life he could not share. Without so much as a glance, Draco slung his bag over his shoulder and left the library.

After quickly dropping his bag off and retrieving his cloak, Draco emerged from the Slytherin common room still unsure of what to do. Go outside—it was more an impression then an actual voice. Feeling a little silly, he headed for the front door. Afterall, it was the only thing Draco had to go on.

This was his first meeting as an official Death Eater, a thought that made Draco feel a bit uneasy. He had no idea what to expect. Would he be asked to prove his loyalty again? No, Draco thought—he had already done that. Would there be another induction ceremony? Would they plan another muggle attack like the one his father led during the quidditch World Cup? Draco smirked, that could be fun.

Having lost himself to his musings, Draco was slightly surprised when he reached the entry-way so quickly. Draco looked around, there would be questions if another student or teacher saw him leaving the castle at this time of night. Draco quickly pulled one of the large oak doors wide enough to slip through.

Now where, Draco thought as he stepped out into the dark night. His eyes traveled across the deserted lawns, over the placid lake, until resting on the Forbidden Forest. The forest—the impression came just as easily as before, though Draco rather wished he hadn't felt it. Despite the warm weather, Draco fastened his cloak and pulled the hood over his face. He didn't want some nosy Gryffindor seeing him cross the lawn into the Forbidden Forest, particularly Potter.

That'd be just the thing Potty would do, sneered Draco as he made his way over the grounds. He probably stands by his window every night just hoping to catch me so he can send me to Azkaban, just like my father. He'd really love that. Draco pulled his cloak closer.

Draco hesitated at the periphery of the forest for an instant before plunging into the darkness. Not wanting to be seen from the castle, he took a few blind steps before lighting his wand. Further in. The feeling came to him again, and again he obeyed. The forest seemed to drain away the light, and even with his wand light, had to stop a number of times to unhook his cloak from the thorns. He continued to trip over roots and run head-on into branches as he pushed further into the forest. All the meetings had better not be in the forest, Draco thought as he tried to shield his face from the sharp brush.

All sense of time seemed to slip away as Draco stepped deeper into the overwhelming darkness. Draco tried not to listen to all the creaks and moans of the trees and the cracking of the twigs—now was not the time to be scared.

When Draco was sure he would never get to wherever he was supposed to go he noticed a bright glow coming from what seemed to be a clearing among the trees. It was as if Draco were looking at a simple photograph—all was eerily silent and still except for the occasional pop and constant flickering of the torch light, and the circle of hooded figures stood as if frozen. There was an empty space between two cloaked Death Eaters, and Draco crossed over to stand between them.

"Welcome," the familiar voice said in an authoritative tone that could have moved the tallest mountain. The circle of Death Eaters parted in unison, Draco joining in, until closing once again once the Dark Lord entered. "This is a special night for all of us," Lord Voldemort began from his stance in the center of the circle. "I have learned certain information that will help me in my quest to defeat Harry Potter.

Several Death Eaters turned to each other to whisper. Lord Voldemort raise a long-fingered hand to silence them. "One of you, my loyal servants, will be blessed by helping me see the plan through. One of you," he continued, beginning to pace in front of them and surveying each Death Eater in turn as if assessing their value, "will have the opportunity to become the most beloved of my servants."

"Please, Lord. Let me serve you." Despite his concealed face, Draco recognized the voice of his father instantly. Lucius stepped forward as Lord Voldemort gazed at him with his fiery eyes. "I will do it."

"No, let me," a man with a high-pitched, squeaky voice. "I have proved my loyalty before," the man said, raising a metallic, silver hand.

For a moment the Dark Lord seemed to be considering the two volunteers in turn. "No, no," he finally said. "This job cannot be trusted to just anyone." Lucius and the silver-handed man shrunk back to their positions in the circle and Lord Voldemort continued his slow march around the circle.

"This Death Easter has proven his resilience so far. He is in the best position to complete the task. He is cunning and resourceful, from all that I have seen. He has a very bright future ahead of him if he succeeds." Draco's breath hitched as the Dark Lord drew nearer and finally stepped in front of him with a gleam in his eye. "Draco Malfoy."

Draco exhaled, feeling as if he'd just been pushed down a dark pit.

"It is indeed a dangerous mission. There is much to lose, but there is much to gain." Somehow Draco managed to hold the Dark Lord's gaze and his eyes seemed to burn. "You will spy on Harry Potter, do what you have to find out about the prophecy and then you will bring him to me so that I can kill him."

Draco felt all the hidden eyes penetrating him, wondering how a young boy could do what they had never been able to. Suddenly Draco wished he was in bed, having pleasant dreams.

"My son will do what you command and he will succeed," Lucius said, his voice ringing in Draco's ears.

The Dark Lord appeared to have not hear him and continued to stare at Draco as if waiting for a response. "Thank you for entrusting me with this responsibility. I will do it," Draco heard himself say in a confident tone he wasn't sure he'd be able to muster.

"Excellent," the Dark Lord said with what Draco assumed was a smile. "Now if you will all leave us, young Malfoy and I have much to discuss."


End file.
